


Dwindling Innocence

by katie_delaney



Category: The Libertines
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_delaney/pseuds/katie_delaney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre fame Libertines fic. Amy invites Peter to come and stay with her in halls at uni, where here friend Carl also happens to be living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

Carl was sitting in his room in halls, feet up on the desk, eyes closed as he basked in a rare moment of sunshine on a Friday afternoon. He should be in a lecture, he knows this, so to compensate he's spread a few hefty textbooks across his desk, more to show willingness more than anything else. He yawned and opened his eyes, looking round reluctantly at the mess his shoebox of a room had turned into. His duvet was screwed up in a corner of the bed and his guitar was taking up the rest of it, there were beer cans and pizza boxes scattered around the floor amongst the piles of jeans and boxers. At least he'd managed to open his curtains today, that was always a start.

 It made him tired just thinking about the amount of time it would take to clean it all up. He jumped as someone knocked on the door, probably Amy. He really hoped it was, he really wasn't keen on any of the other people on his block. That hadn't stopped him sleeping with most of the girls in the block, but he wasn't looking to have a conversation with them, was he?

He was getting bored now though, he needed someone new to entertain him.

 He had gone so far as lurking in the shadows of some of the city's “alternative” nights out, enough to attract attention but not enough to be remembered. He'd gone home with a couple of them but he didn't know...something just didn't feel quite right about it. None of them were particularly good looking, he was sure it was one of life's cruellest jokes that all the guys he fancied were straight and all the girls he fancied were as thick as two short planks. Which was always okay at first, but after a while it tended to get quite boring. There were only so many times Carl could be convinced to go shopping or to the latest “trendy” club where a drink cost more than he would normally spend on food in a week. No, he definitely needed someone new.

 “Hello?”

 “It's me, can I come in?” Thankfully, it was her.

 “Um...” Carl took his shoes off the desk and extracted a pair of some lucky girl’s underwear from the floor and threw it out of sight into his wardrobe, “Yeah.”

 She opened the door and wrinkled her nose at the sight of the place.

 “I'll be right back,” she said, smirking at him slightly and walked off down the corridor. Carl frowned but picked up a few of his clothes from off the floor, throwing them in the direction of the washing basket. She appeared a few minutes later with a bin bag and carefully picked her way across the floor to get into his room, shutting the door behind her.

 “Oh, Amy, you don't have to do that...” he started.

 “I'm not bloody going to, you lazy sod!” She laughed at him, throwing him the bag and perching on the end of his bed, moving his guitar onto his pillows to make some space.

 Carl sighed. “Why am I cleaning up? It's just going to get messy again.”

 “You sound like a five year old, aren't you meant to be in lectures?”

 Carl sighed again and stood up, reluctantly starting to pick up to rubbish off the floor.

 “Yeah well...it wasn't anything important.” 

 She picked up a copy of his timetable from off the floor and frowned at it.

 “Friday, 3pm, Assignment brief...yeah...right, not important at all.”

 Carl just shrugged. “What's the point? They just put it all on the computers anyway.”

 “Do you ever use the computers?” She was teasing him, for some reason he never minded when she did.

 “I might do,” he huffed slightly, grabbing the last of the beer cans and tying up the bag, throwing it out into the hall.

 “You're tidying up because you're having a guest.”

 Carl immediately frowned, it wasn't that he was antisocial, it really wasn't, he just...didn't like that many people.

 “Am I?”

 “Oh don't sulk, it's only my brother.”

 Carl desperately tried to stop his eyebrows from disappearing under his fringe.

 “Oh?” He tried very hard to keep his face blank.

 “Yeah, well, he's coming up to visit but it's Claire's birthday and I don't think a poppy club is really his thing.”

 “Yeah, you're probably right.”

 Blank face Carl, blank face.

 “It's only one night, I'm sure you'll get on, and you can make him sleep on the floor, it's not like you have to give him your bed or anything.”

 Blank face Carl. He felt his mouth twitch into a smile and put his hand up to his face, clearing his throat.

 “I guess I could...”

 “I'll buy you guys pizza?”

 “Okay now I'm tempted.” Carl laughed. “Yeah all right I'll do it.”

 She beamed at him, Carl smiled and he decided it was safe now to look at her properly without her seeing completely through him. She really was quite pretty, with the whole dark curly hair and big dark eyes, she was wearing a neat denim skirt and a pretty blouse today, converse on her feet and a string of fake pearls round her neck...he wasn't sure why he didn't fancy her, she would have looked quite the part on his arm. He imagined she'd just put herself in the friends category so quick he hadn't even had chance to consider her as a conquest. It was a shame really, she probably would have been quite a nice girlfriend, though “nice” had never really cut it with him. Maybe he was just too picky.

 “Which ones Claire?”

 “She's the one that's studying history, lives across the court yard?”

 Carl continued to look at her blankly. Amy laughed at him and rolled her eyes.

 “Tall, blonde hair, green eyes, big tits...”

 “Ah yes,” Carl said, smirking slightly, yes, he remembered Claire. She'd been one of the freshers week girls.

 “You're awful.”

 “She didn't seem to be complaining,” he said, grinning at her.

 “Shut up! I did not want to hear that!” she shrieked at him, jumping up and heading for the door. “Do you want a cup of tea?”

 “Yes please!” he said, grinning at her, holding out a few days old filthy mug. She wrinkled her nose at it and reluctantly took it from him.

 “Clean up!” she told him again, looking down at the floor and still seeing no space big enough that her brother would be able to fit in.   
 “Yes mum!” Carl called after her.

She flicked her fingers up at him and he laughed but dutifully started cleaning up the floor, allowing the smirk he'd been suppressing to spread across his face. He knew Peter, they'd been sending each other letters since Amy had given Carl her home address. He knew what he looked like from pictures on her wall that had caught his attention on more than one occasion. He wasn't sure what it was, just something about those big eyes looking up at the camera. Or it might have just been his height, Carl had discovered on his trips to the “alternative” clubs that he apparently had a bit of thing for tall men.

 He knew he was younger than him, but only by a year, and from his letters he was pretty sure the boy wasn't entirely innocent. Not that that had ever really been an issue with him before, but this was his friend's brother, so he probably should be a bit careful.

                                                                                    *

 Pete hates getting the train to London, it's packed today as usual, he supposes he's caught the rush hour getting the first one he could after school on a Friday afternoon. He just about managed to get a seat, but at the moment the annoying posh girl next to him shrieking with laughter down her phone is making him wish he was standing up. He even got a seat in the aisle, to stretch his legs out, but of course that backfired when the three screaming children of a particularly harassed looking mother decided to start racing up and down the train.

 He tries to shuffle to a more comfortable position in his seat. He put his rucksack in between his feet earlier for safe keeping and now he's beginning to think this was a very bad idea. He's not sure how the girl next to him is taking up so much room. She's a tiny skinny thing with blonde hair, wearing a mini skirt and sunglasses despite being in a fairly dark train carriage. He then realises she's got her hand bag and stack of magazines in between them and that it's taking up about as much room on the seat as she is.

 He rolls his eyes as she bursts into another fit of laughter, almost as annoying as the person behind him whose got their tinny poor quality headphones on appallingly loudly.

 He sighs and closes his eyes, cursing his walkman for breaking on him the second he stepped on the train. He thinks about getting a book out his bag, but doubts he'd be able to concentrate. It's too hot as well, he can practically feel the girls perfume getting in his lungs but there's no room to take his jacket off...

 He takes a deep breath. He needs to calm down. It's just a train Peter, it's really nothing to be scared of. Just sit still for another hour and we'll be there, all for a good cause. He thinks of the boy he's been writing to the last few months, he's intrigued by him. Conversations and friendships aren't something Peter's ever been that good at. He always starts to feel awkward, threatened or like he can't express himself properly. Give him a piece of paper and a pen on the other hand...This is why he thinks he feels slightly nervous about meeting this boy. Until now he's not met Peter's awkwardness, he's just met his second, possibly third drafted, carefully thought out letter that he hoped would make him sound interesting.

 His mother was laughing at him earlier that week, convinced he'd got a girlfriend, saying she was sure that he'd exchanged more words with his mysterious pen pal than he ever did with any of his peers at school. Pete had just shrugged. He was sure it couldn't just be his awkwardness, he liked to blame it more on a lack of interest in people.

 And now he was going to have to meet him, and convince him that he wasn't actually a social retard, and was actually quite a good candidate for a friend. He didn't know why he was so set on befriending him, there was just something about his ideas that gripped him. The way Carl’s thoughts seem to unravel in his letters seemed very familiar. He could play guitar, and that generally increased Peter's respect for people. That and the fact that he was gorgeous, but he really wasn't going to let that get in the way of things.

 He'd seen a picture of Carl on Amy's wall at home. They were sitting outside in a bar, the sun beaming down on them, Carl's hair was falling in his face but Pete could still make out his blue eyes  and the cheeky grin he was giving the camera. The fact that he was wearing a leather jacket and boots similar to a pair Peter had been coveting for quite some time just added to the effect.

 He knew there was no chance, Amy was always talking to him about what a womaniser he was, a different girl falling out of his room every morning. Besides, even if he was so inclined, Pete imagined that his friend's lanky pasty younger brother wasn't really the type of bloke he'd go for. No, Pete wasn't going to do, or say, anything stupid. He was just going to act like he was a normal person, completely capable of going and hanging out with his sister's cool uni friends.

 He looked out the window as the train came to a halt and sighed at how far away they still were.

                                                                                    *

 Carl makes a final sweep of his room. It just about looks acceptable now that he's cleared the floor, opened the window and took the rubbish out. He taps the top of his desk impatiently and glances over his text books that are taking up all the room on his desk. No, he isn't quite bored enough to resort to doing uni work. He doesn't understand, he loved drama at school, he loved English, and now he's got here and the course is essentially both and he really can't be bothered. He picks them up and opens the door, deciding they might as well make a good door stop.

 He picks up his guitar and starts playing idly, wondering not for the first time whether he should have just taken music instead. No doubt they'd still make him write essays.

 He jumps as he hears the door suddenly slam downstairs.

 “Carl! Give us a hand!” He hears Amy shout up to him, so he puts his guitar down on the bed and ambles to the stop of the stairs.

 “Have you actually brought the entire of Sainsbury’s?” Carl asks, raising his eyebrows as he sees Amy and her brother surrounded by orange bags. Carl makes a quick analysis; the boy is wearing a long black coat, ripped jeans and converse but he's bending over rummaging in one of the bags so he can't see him properly.

 “Well I figured since I had him with me I might as well make him useful,” Amy says, laughing. Carl dutifully takes the few bags Amy's handing up to him.

 “All us men are useful for ey? Carrying your bags...” he says, smiling at her and taking the bags up to the kitchen, finding the contents to be mainly cider, whiskey, pizza and fags. Amy and Pete follow him up and dump the remaining bags on the counter.

 “Carl, this is my brother,” Amy says, gesturing to him, “Pete this is Carl, he's soon to be a drama drop out.”

 Carl pulls a face at her and hold his hand out to him.

 “Hi, I'm Carl, soon to be famous actor, actually,” he says, grins charmingly at him and practically sees the poor boy melt. This is going to be a lot easier than he was expecting. He's just as pretty as he knew he would be, big innocent eyes, and long fingers, he notes to himself as Pete smiles shyly up at him.

 “Hi.”

God he's adorable. He has to fight an insane urge to knock all the shopping onto the floor and throw him across the table.

 “Drinks?” Amy chirps, not really paying attention to them. Carl eventually lets go of Pete's hand and turns round.

 “Yes, what are we starting with?”

 “Cider?” Amy suggests, pulling out several bottles.

 “Sounds good to me, are your mates coming over later?”

 “Should be coming over nowish actually, I said pizza at ours and then we'll go out.”

 Carl nodds, pouring three glasses out and handing one to Pete who's standing awkwardly listening to his sister's plans.

 “Thanks,” he smiles quietly at him. Carl just smiles in return and turns back to Amy.   
 “You mean they're all coming over?”

 “Well yeah...”

 Carl winces, he loves Amy, he does, and he does have a few female friends but having about twenty girls shrieking and giggling in his kitchen really isn't his idea of good night in.              

 “We may be making a swift exit in that case,” he smirks easily over at Pete.

 “Sound like a good idea...I've had enough sleepovers inflicted on me as a child,” Pete mumbles.

 “You _loved_ having curly hair don't lie,” Amy teased.

 Pete winces and Carl laughs.

 “That sounds like child cruelty to me, I'll take much better care of him,” he says, flashing a grin at him.

 Pete just looked relieved more than anything else, clearly oblivious to his flirting. Bless.

 “Bet you will, you'll probably both wake up in some Scandinavian country with no bloody clothes on,” Amy scoffs at him.

 “I've had worse nights,” Carl says, shrugging.

 “He's irresponsible,” Amy turns to Pete, already nearly halfway down her glass, “don't listen to anything he says.”

 “Is that why you're leaving him with me?” Carl mocks her.

 “Well it'll give you the night off from working your way round all the girls in the block,” she smiles cattily back at him.

 “That's an exaggeration,” he tells Pete who just smiles back at him, sipping his cider nervously.

 “AMY!”

Carl winces as he hears Amy's friends outside.

 “Don't you dare!” Amy says, her hand shooting out to stop Carl's imminent escape from the kitchen. “Stay, be nice, talk to them.”

She gives him a stern look and goes down to let them in.

 “How long are you in London for then?” Carl attempts to strike up some innocent small talk with him.

 “Just the weekend.”

 There's something so vulnerable about him that made Carl want to wrap his arms round him and protect him from the world, somewhat ironically since Carl was probably the only thing he needed to be protected from at this moment in time.

 “I'll have to show you around, if you're still thinking of coming to uni here,” Carl said, trying to remember what they'd talked about in their letters.

 “Yeah that'd be cool,” Pete said, smiling back.

 Carl knew he was holding eye contact with him for far too long. He dropped his gaze back down to his glass for a second and reluctantly looked back up as he heard Amy's friends walk in.

 “Hi Carl!” they chorused as they walked in. Carl might have been exaggerating, there were in fact only five of them, but he was sure they made as much noise as twenty.

 “Hello ladies, how are we?” He put on his best friendly face and smiled up at them.

 “All the better for seeing you,” one of the blonde ones said, grinning at him. Becky he thought her name was...no she was Claire, the other blonde one was Becky. He gave up.

 “Aw, Amy, is this your brother?” Becky/Claire cooed at Pete. Carl had to stop himself from putting his arm round him protectively, they were vultures. He knew he'd slept with them all of his own choosing, but they were still vultures. He was experienced enough to handle them, Pete he imagined they'd eat alive.

 “Yeah this is Pete,” she replied, smiling at her brother's slightly terrified expression.

 “Aw he looks just like you. Hi, I'm Claire,” she said, “this is Becky, Lisa, Hannah and Jess.”

 Jess was probably Carl's favourite, all long dark hair, pale and skinny, she was wearing black skinny jeans, heels and a blue lacey top, along with the ridiculous amounts of eyeliner he'd never seen her without. He'd thought she was incredibly cool until he'd actually started talking to her and realised that her head was essentially full of air.

 “You can forget their names, I tend to,” Carl said, smiling at the bemused expression on Pete's face and getting himself five identical glares off Amy's friends.

 “Carl!” Amy hissed at him under her breath. “Right, ladies, would you like a drink?”

 Oh don't give them drink...it just makes them even more annoying. He felt himself subconsciously moving towards Pete and was pretty sure he was doing the same and smiled slightly.  The girls quickly went back to paying absolutely no attention to them and started talking about something so fast that Carl could barely make out what they were saying. He couldn't help it, he was bored, and his arms had lives of their own when they were bored. Pete's coat was big, they were standing behind a table, he could easily get away with it without Amy noticing.

 He slipped his arm inside Pete's coat and round his waist, pulling him a little closer. Pete glanced at him and Carl just gave him an innocent look right back. He really shouldn't be doing this, Amy was standing the other side of him, but the conversation was so dull he really didn’t know what else he'd be expected to do. One of the girls starts talking to Pete and he talks to her easily. That's interesting, Carl thinks, girls don't seem to make him nervous.

 They're talking about university degrees or something, Pete sounds a lot more confident when he's talking about English...Carl really doesn't know why he's feeling so mischievous this evening, he's sure it's just boredom. It was always at the most boring parties that he ended up getting in the most trouble. His fingers creep underneath Pete's top, just a tiny bit and then start tracing little patterns up his side. He’s amused as Pete stumbles over what he was saying slightly.

 The girl turns to get herself another drink.

 “You've got really cold hands,” Pete says to him under his breath.

 “Mmm?” Carl replies with a smirk.

 “Pizza!”

 Carl takes his hands away and pulls Peter down into the seat next to him round the table as Amy starts dishing out plates.

 

Peter is terrified. He was pretty terrified when he'd walked in the door after his sister, so much so that he was all too quick to find an excuse to busy himself with the shopping. He realised as he walked up the stairs that spending a good month wanking over this half-fictional, to him anyway, boy may not have been the best idea. For one thing he was sure he was straight, and would make a good friend, but he wouldn't make a very good friend if the only thing Pete could muster were a few stammering sentences.

 This was confirmed to him as he'd followed his sister in the kitchen and seen him standing there, tight jeans and leather jacket on, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, hair all dishevelled and giving Pete the most disarming smile he thought he'd ever seen. He very nearly turned on his heels and ran, but thought it would have taken a bit too much explaining to his sister that he'd rather avoid.

He'd tried to keep his cool, eagerly accepting the cider, hoping it would calm his nerves. Carl was much prettier than his sister had told him, he couldn't understand why she hadn't hooked up with him yet, it seemed when they were talking like they were the best of friends.

 And it also sounded from the conversation that Carl had already made his way through the rest of the girls in the block. He'd relaxed slightly at that, Carl was obviously straight, it was never going to happen, he could just relax and try and shift him into the “friend” category of his brain and just keep a mental note to never leave him alone with any of his potential future girlfriends. He had panicked a bit when his sister had left them to talk, but Carl seemed lovely, chatting away to him and smiling...if he didn't know to the contrary he'd think he was making eyes at him, but he probably was just being nice.

 Then all Amy's friends had arrived and Carl had practically ran out the room, he was pretty sure they were actually the same girls from back home, they certainly sounded the same. And as he looked between them he was sure they were all wearing the same tiny dress just in different colours. Apart from the goth one, but she really wasn't his type. Melodramatic girls who hadn't quite managed to make it out of their teenage angst really weren't his style.

 He'd found himself moving slightly towards his new friend, in the hopes that male camaraderie might save them from these shrieking harpies, though he'd easily started talking to one of them who appeared to actually know something. Then Carl had put his arm round him, which had made things slightly more complicated. It was embarrassing how the lightest touch on Pete's waist had literally made him go weak at the knees, and then Carl slid his fingers underneath his top... Pete had looked at him, he'd just looked innocently back. He'd chanced a quick look around the room but no one was paying them the slightest bit of attention. Even if they were Pete had a huge coat on, no one would notice.

 The only problem left then was what the hell Carl was doing, and while it was actually quite obvious what he was doing Pete's mind didn't seem to be able to process that someone like Carl, even if he was into guys, would be interested in him. He was older, he was gorgeous, he was clearly far more confident and experienced than he was...what on earth was he doing with his arm round his waist? He appreciated that maybe he was just bored, but this wasn't an issue, Pete would really have no problem with being Carl's entertainment for the night.

 When Pete finally managed to gather himself together enough to say something Carl just smiled elusively back at him, and now they were sitting next to each other at the table, Carl quite happily tucking into his pizza as if nothing had happened. Maybe nothing had. Pete frowned and picked up his drink, he knew alcohol probably wouldn't aid his comprehension of what exactly was going on but he was still far too sober and far too nervous.

 And then Carl wound his foot round his under the table, it could have been completely innocent, well no, it couldn't. Maybe it could between girls but Pete was aware that most straight men went out of their way not to have to touch another man in any way, shape or form. Unless they were drunk or at the football, and Carl was none of these things. And if Carl hadn't just put his hand on his leg. Pete gulped down another half of his drink.

                                                                                    *

 Carl's eyes kept flicking up to the clock, he knew this boy was his, and he was pretty sure he'd made Pete aware of his intentions. Now all that remained was for his sister to skip on off to whatever shitty club it was they were going to and Carl could turn this into a much better evening. It was strange, he didn't usually want people when he was this sober. Usually it was more that he was drunk in a club somewhere, needed release and found someone who he didn't particularly mind sharing it with. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been sober and felt his heart racing just at the thought of being with someone. It occurred to him that all the nights he was out of the prowl he just wanted it, now he seemed to just want Peter. He dragged his nails up Pete's leg and smirked as he nearly jumped out of his chair.

 It was all the more amusing because they were apparently having a normal conversation about schools, uni, bands, etc. but Carl kept moving his hand every time Pete was mid-sentence just for the sheer amusement of watching Pete stumble over his words. He wondered if he was being a tiny bit cruel, but it didn’t bother him enough to stop.

 

Pete was starting to panic, he was starting to realise exactly how this was going to go. Amy and her friends were going to leave, they were going to go back to Carl's room and have sex. When he was on the train this probably would have struck him as the best possible outcome for the night, however now he was faced with the reality it seemed a lot more terrifying than an evening full of awkward silence.

 It was all well and good that this gorgeous boy had his hand on his leg and was probably already making plans of how exactly he was going to ravish him, but he was obviously experienced, experienced enough for his sister to have called him a slag on quite a number of occasions. Pete had had sex with one girl, and that was all, and it had been a categorical disaster.

 He wondered if there was any way he could just put up his hands after letting Carl think he was completely comfortable with this for all this time, tell him he was a virgin not to be bothered with and run away to his sister's room, or possibly jump out of the window. And never ever come back to London again. That might be a bit inconvenient though, maybe just this part of London. And then Carl ran his nails up his leg and Pete had to bite down quite hard on his tongue to repress the strange squeaking sound which seemed to want to make its way out of his mouth. He imagined that sound would probably sum up quite eloquently how he was feeling at this very second.

 

The minutes seemed to be dragging by as the girls finished off their pizza and decided that they needed to go into Amy's room and “get ready.” Carl had frowned at this, he was pretty sure they were already ready to go. If they put any more make up on or hair spray in their hair they were going to start looking like an 80s hair metal band.

 “You're already ready.”

 They all shrieked at him that they most certainly weren't and hurried off to Amy's room, leaving them alone with half a dozen pizza crusts and several empty glasses.

 Carl smiled at him. “And now I can hear myself think again.”

 “Tell me about it, it's like being back home.”

 “But your hair’s not curly,” Carl said, smirking at him.

 “But my hair’s not curly.” Pete repeated, feeling his cheeks colouring. Carl just laughed and casually put his arm round his shoulders, telling Pete about something to do with his drama course, some essay or other, Pete really couldn't concentrate. He could tell he wasn't concentrating because he didn't notice that Carl had stopped talking and was in fact a few inches from his face. Pete jerked his head back as he felt Carl's lips brush against his own, visions of his sister walking through the door terrifying him enough to deny himself what he'd been secretly thinking about all month. He'd blown it, he knew he had, now Carl was going to think he wasn't interested and he'd lost his chance.

In fact, Carl was actually just sitting there smiling, clearly amused.

 “Does your sister not know then, I take it?” he asked, smiling at Pete's expression. He looked like he'd seen a ghost, as his eyes had gone even bigger than they usually were and he seemed to have gone several shades paler.

 Pete shook his head.

“No,” he just about managed.

 “She's doing her hair, she'll be in there for years,” Carl rolled his eyes, moving towards Pete again, who glanced over towards the door. Carl took advantage and kissed him properly. Pete thought his heart had actually stopped, he was frozen, couldn't breathe. Carl's tongue flicked out at his lower lip teasingly, Pete felt as if a wave of hormones had just washed over him. It seemed to suddenly dawn on him that the gorgeous boy he'd been fantasising over for the past month was actually kissing him. He put his hand up in Carl's hair and kissed him back properly, he could practically feel him grinning in triumph, but he didn't care. He was pretty sure this felt too good for him to ever care about anything again. Carl’s hair was soft underneath his fingers, his kisses were enough to convince him that he really did want him, for some reason Pete couldn't quite fathom. Maybe he'd just finally found a gorgeous boy whose type just happened to be tall, awkward, skinny virgins.

 He heard his sister’s laugh coming out of her room and jerked his head back again, Carl just smirked at him and shouted to Amy down the corridor.

 “Are you still bloody here?”

 “Shut up you cheeky sod, we're going now I think.”

She was tipsy already by the sound of things; she ran up to the kitchen doorway and leant against the door frame.

 “You,” she pointed at Carl. “I want a word.”

 “Oh god, is this the ‘don't burn down the flat’ talk?”

 “Right now, Barat,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and giving him another stern look. Carl just smiled slightly at Pete and followed her into the corridor; she walked into Carl's room and shut the door behind them. She put her hands on her hips, she was definitely tipsy, her cheeks had gone rosy and she was swaying slightly.

 “Carl,” she started, then paused, trying to get her words together. “Let me put this simply. I love you, you're one of my best friends, but you're a slag, and if you fuck my little brother, I will never speak to you again.”

 Carl's mouth dropped open slightly, he really had thought he'd been a little bit more subtle than that.

 “I know you,” she interrupted him as he went to deny everything. She pointed at him, “I know you all too well, I've seen you out on the pull, I know your pulling face, and you've got your pulling face on. Shut up!” she said as Carl went to interrupt her again. “I see the way you've been looking at him, and he's so innocent he's like a rabbit in the headlights. You take advantage of him, you hurt him in any way at all...and I will kill you,” she said very seriously.

 Carl tried not to laugh and waited to see if she had finished talking.

 “Do you get me?” she raised her eyebrows at him.

 “I get you,” Carl nodded.

 “Good,” she said, all smiles again. “Do I look okay?”

 She twirled round in front of him, her purple dress flaring out around her.

 “You look lovely,” he smiled.

 “Not as lovely as my brother I'll bet,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him again and Carl began to wonder exactly how much she'd managed to drink in the past hour and a half. “Seriously, touch him, I'll chop your cock off, yes?”

 “Yes,” Carl nodded, desperately trying not to laugh. 

 “Good,” she grinned at him and twirled back out the door. “Bye, Peter!” she called over her shoulder. Carl heard him call back to her as he walked back into the kitchen, trying to control his laughter before Amy had left the block.

 “What did she say?” Pete asked, he was cringing already as Carl started clearing away the plates. 

 “She said...” he started but started laughing again, “she said,” he tried again, looking up to meet Pete's eyes this time, “she said if I touched you that she'd chop my cock off.”

 Pete closed his eyes and then opened them again, deciding that he was going to find this funny rather than mortifying because it would probably be better for the both of them.

 “I think there’d be a riot in the dorm if she did by the sounds of things.” He couldn't believe he just said that, he looked down at his empty glass suspiciously and wondered just how much he'd had. Carl's mouth dropped open and he laughed,

 “Is this the real you that only comes out when your sister’s not around?”

 “Apparently,” Pete smiled slightly, he wanted to be kissing him again, he was still terrified, but it didn't seem to be so much of a problem anymore. He got up and helped him clear away the plates, as he leant over the sink he felt Carl wrap his arms round his waist. He couldn't breathe again, Carl's fingers were skimming the top of his jeans. Pete turned round, hoping that his height over him might give him a slightly bit of confidence.

 It didn't. Carl was just smiling up at him, his blue eyes practically shining, just being this close to him had apparently rendered Pete speechless again. Carl pushed him back against the counter, pushing their hips together, smiling at the look on Pete's face as he felt how hard Carl was against his leg, even through his jeans it was enough to make him practically tremble in his arms. He leant up and kissed his neck, nipping down slightly, Peter let out the softest moan Carl thought he'd ever heard.

 “Oh you are fucking busted!”

Carl turned rather swiftly to see Claire/Becky/Jess/godknowswho standing in the doorway.

 Carl raised his eyebrows.

 “I forgot my phone,” she explained, walking up and picking it up off the counter before putting it in her ridiculously small handbag.

 “Okay, what's your price?”

 “Can you even remember my name Carl? Can you?” she asked, glaring up at him.

 “Um..”

 “I'll give you a fucking clue, it's not um. You bastard.” She punctuated her statement by hitting him in the chest with her bag.

 “Please, _Claire_ ,” Pete said rolling his eyes at Carl. “Seriously, don't tell my sister, I'll give you anything...” Pete looked at her with big eyes, but she just frowned at him.

 “Why don't you get him to give me my fucking virginity back?”

 Carl winced slightly.

 “Claire I'm sorry I just thought we were having fun, I didn't mean to hurt you...”

 “Spare me the bullshit,” she said, holding up her hand to him. “I won't tell her, enjoy your fucking evening you fucking fags.”

She stormed out the kitchen and they both jumped slightly as they heard her slam the door.

 “Well...that went well...” Carl rested his head on Pete's chest, Pete couldn't help but thinking it was a rather intimate gesture considering they hadn't known each other more than about 90 minutes. Pete couldn't help but marvel at his ability to manipulate the situation. Pete was sure Carl should be reassuring him, or apologising in some way and telling Pete that he was different, that it had all been a mistake with how ever many girls it had been. Instead Pete found himself pulling Carl towards him, like he was vulnerable somehow. Even though they had both just witnessed evidence to the contrary.

 Carl smiled and put his arms round him. Pete automatically held him back and rested his head on his shoulder. Within seconds he'd decided this was far more terrifying than Carl trying to kiss him, he could feel butterflies in his stomach and protective feelings that were really not appropriate for a 90 minute encounter that had only contained mild kissing and a hysterical girl bursting in on them. He wondered if Carl's letters had made him develop more than just a ridiculous crush on him, he was starting to feel rather fond of him as well.

He tried to pull back put Carl had his arms locked round him.

 “Not getting away that easy boyo...” he mumbled into his chest but leant back, smiling up at him, the smile of someone that knew they were about to get exactly what they wanted. It baffled Peter how anyone could see him as such a conquest. Not that it really mattered, what mattered was more the fact that Carl was taking his hand and leading him down the hall.

 Pete was slightly disillusioned by the whole university halls setting, it was really all very plain and boring, and a bit too clean. He'd really imagined something a bit more like Withnail and I... He was actually shocked when he walked into Carl's room and didn't see a single thing out of place. Pete started to wonder whether he'd seriously misjudged him.

 “Your sister made me tidy up,” Carl smiled slightly at him as he shut the door behind him. “Drink?” He picked up the last two cans under his desk. 

 “Yeah,” Pete agreed before he'd even seen exactly what he was agreeing to drink. Cider apparently.

 Carl smiled as he watched him dithering about where to sit in his room, he wasn't sure how his awkwardness was so endearing, but it was. Carl sat on his bed and pulled him down next to him, moving his guitar out of the way.

 “I don't want you to think I'm just trying to get into your knickers,” he started. Pete blinked at him and raised his eyebrows. “I mean I am...” he paused and frowned, “but that's not all I'm trying to do.”

 “Okay,” Pete replied, wondering what exactly he was getting at.

 “I mean if I wanted to be having sex with you we would already be having sex, cos I know you don't care if I'm a slag or not...but I like you, you're really nice, and I don't know, I just feel kind of...warm around you...” Carl said, smiling wryly at him, thinking he must have had a bit too much to drink to be speaking his emotions so freely.

 Pete just smiled back at him, completely a loss of what to say. He thought now that it would have been a hell of a lot simpler if Carl had just dragged him in here, pushed him up against the wall and had his wicked way with him. At least then he would have known what his intentions were, and now he had no idea. It could be a line, or he could really like him, in which case he was completely unsure how to play it.

 Carl raised his eyebrows at him,

“This is the part where you say shut up and kiss me.”

 “Shut up and kiss me?”

 Carl laughed and leaned forward, kissing him terrifyingly softly. This isn't what Pete was  expecting, he wonders if this was Carl's plan, as now he feels even more swept off his feet. Still, kissing him is still amazing, he feels Carl move his hand up to his hair, brushing it out of his face. Carl pulls back for a moment, but stays close enough that all Pete can see is those beautiful blue eyes, gazing into his own a little bit too seriously for Pete's liking. For a second he's sure that Carl is much, much more complicated than he appears, he's sure that all the chasing girls around the block, skipping lectures and generally dossing around are just a cover for something much, much deeper.

 “There's something very very beautiful about you Peter...”

 Pete watches Carl's eyes flicking over his face as his traces his fingers across his lips lightly, Pete's frozen, terrified of what this is going to mean. He's knows it could mean nothing at all, but he has a gut feeling that it means something very very real. He's always loved this idea of romance, telling tales and attempting to write songs about falling in love, now that it's actually happening to him he's not sure if he likes it at all.

 “I'm not sure if it's your innocence or what but...” Carl says, locking eyes with him again, “you're gorgeous,” he finishes and carries on kissing him.

Pete thinks he really should say something back, something...anything...but his mind has gone completely blank, all his poetic words have left him now. He settles for kissing Carl harder instead, apparently that was the only encouragement Carl needed, for he quickly pushes Pete onto his back, crawling on top of him.

 Pete closes his eyes as he let his head drop back onto the pillow, he can feel Carl sitting back on his legs, pushing his top up, he reluctantly opens his eyes.

 “Don't look so worried.” Carl laughs slightly at him, “I'm not that scary am I?”

 “You're terrifying,” Pete says, biting his lip slightly.

 “People have called me many things...” Carl ponders, pulling Pete's top over his head, tracing his fingertips over Pete's chest lightly, “but I don't think anyone's ever called me terrifying before.”

 Pete reluctantly opens his eyes, he reaches up and pulls Carl's top over his head, supposing that that is what he's meant to do next. He runs his hands up Carl's side, can feel himself getting impossibly hard, which Carl can probably feel too due to him sitting in such a precarious position. He arches his hips up, blushing slightly as he does, Carl pushes back down onto him, grinning and leaning down to kiss him.

 Just as Pete thought, Carl's in his element here. Whilst he's wondering what exactly he's supposed to be doing Carl's hands are everywhere. Pete feels breathless already at the sensation of Carl's hot skin up against his own. Carl's mouth moves down his neck, kissing, biting, dragging his teeth down. Pete whimpers, he can feel Carl hard against his leg, he brushes his leg up against him, smiling as he feels his breath hitch. Carl's eyes flick up to him and he raises his eyebrows, Pete nervously moves his hands down to his belt, hands almost shaking when he goes to undo it, Carl squirms slightly and Pete smiles at him, finally slipping his jeans down over his hips.

 Carl kicks them off and they fall to the floor with a clatter. He moves his hands to Pete's jeans and Pete tries very hard not to hit the ceiling. Pete concentrates hard and just about manages to keep still while Carl undoes his belt but doesn't manage as well as Carl slips his hand into his boxers.

 “Fuck...” he blinks, head dropping back as Carl wraps his hand round his cock, Carl smiles and Pete has to retaliate, he can't have him looking quite so smug, so he pulls Carl's boxers down and tries to ignore the blind panic in his mind telling him he's got no idea what he's doing. How hard could it be really?

 Carl gasps, Pete smiles, see, he tells himself, it's easy. Carl rolls off him slightly so they're lying face to face, and he’s kissing him again, desperately now, small moans against Pete's tongue and pushing into his hand, moving his own hand faster. Pete could happily lose himself like this, Carl writhing against him, moaning into his mouth, his skilled hands wiping all coherent thoughts from his mind. But he imagines Carl is probably wanting significantly more and moves his hand down, grabbing Carl's wrist and stopping him.

 Carl just smiles and pushes him back, sliding down him. Pete thinks this is possibly the opposite of what he was hinting at, his eyes roll back into his head as he feels Carl's tongue flicking out against his cock before he takes it in his mouth completely. Pete moans, loud, he can't help it, he was trying to be quiet, god knows what would happen if Amy came back early but...he was just too good at it. And he's playing Peter exactly how he wants him, moving his mouth so slowly, holding him back for what he's really brought him here for. Pete whimpers, it feels like sweet torture, keeping him on the edge.

 “Can I take you home with me please?” he hears himself say. Carl just laughs round his cock and Pete shivers as he feels Carl's fingers in between his legs. Then Carl flicks his tongue out in between his legs and Pete nearly yanks his hair out in response, he hears Carl laughing at him, then he starts moving his tongue faster, pushing his fingers inside him. Pete moans, he can't help it... he seriously needs something to hold on to or he's going to rip all of Carl's beautiful hair out... He's pretty sure his voice has just turned into one long whimper at what he's doing to him, and with every push he's going in deeper, making him yell louder...he cries out as Carl gets his fingers just where he wants them.

 “Do you like that baby?”

 Pete just screws up his eyes and tries not to resort to begging.

 “Hmm?” Carl asks, slowing his fingers.

 “Oh don't you dare....” Pete gasps, pushing himself back onto his fingers. Carl laughs slightly and pushes his fingers in harder, Pete moans, Carl lets him get a bit higher before he pulls his hand back.

 “Don't...”

 “Patience love...” Carl says, smiling at him, reaching under his bed for a condom, absent-mindedly stroking Pete's cock with his other hand. “I think you're going to like this better...”

 Pete screws his hands up in the sheets and tries to keep his composure, not that he supposes he really has any left any more.

 “I have a feeling I'm seriously going to enjoy deflowering you,” Carl says with a smirk, putting some lube in Pete's hand, letting him wrap round it round his cock. Pete shouldn't have opened his eyes, it's made him see this gorgeous boy, spreading his legs and moving over him, and he looks even more beautiful like this, lips red and swollen, flush cheeks and mischief in his eyes.

 He's been so busy admiring him he didn't notice him move forward and gasps as Carl pushes his cock agonisingly slowly into him, letting out a guttural moan as he does. He always wondered how this would feel, whether it would hurt or not but...right now it just feels good, intense, but good. Carl's biting his lip above him, trying to give him time and not get completely carried away.

 “God you feel good,” he whispers in his ear. As he starts moving, Pete's breath hitches and Carl smirks at him, “Good babe?”

 “Mmm,” Pete just about manages.

 “Mmm? God, Pete, is that all I'm worth...” he teases him and starts moving faster, Pete moans,     digging his nails into Carl's back as he moves above him, desperately needing something to hold onto. He can feel Carl's stomach brushing against his cock as he moves but it's nowhere near enough. He knows though that Carl is nowhere near close, for one thing he's still smirking at him, leaning down to catch his lips occasionally, amused at what he's reduced him to.

 Pete can't seem to catch his breath, every stroke is taking it away from him again, it just feels so good, he loves this boy. He's sure of it.

 “Carl...”

Oh he didn't just start moaning his name, he inwardly cringes, that is supposed to be for blushing blondes in James Bond movies, not him. Carl just grins at him and raises his eyebrows, Pete has a feeling he's never going to live that down. Carl leans down, resting his arms either side of Pete on the pillow, leaning down to kiss him, tilting his hips up.

 “Oh fuck...” Pete whimpers into Carl's mouth, feeling him hitting exactly where he wants him to. He can't close his eyes now though, as Carl's rested his forehead on his, blue eyes hovering above his own, wanting to see every expression he's making on his face as he moves faster.

Pete tries to catch a breath in between Carl's kisses, he can hear Carl panting, can feel him kissing him harder, biting down on his lips.

 “Mmm...” Carl moans, grinning at him, “I am gonna make you come so hard baby...” he whispers in his ear.

Pete groans, he need this, needs Carl, more than anything he's ever needed in the world. He wraps his legs round his waist, he doesn't care about having even a shred of dignity left any more, he just wants Carl take to him, to make him his...

 “Please Carrrrl...” he groans in his ear. “Please...”

 Carl just flicks his tongue out at his neck but Pete can feel him losing control, faster and harder than he'd probably allow himself otherwise.

 “You're not hurting me...go on...” Pete breathes. Carl raises his eyebrows but does as he's told. Pete cries out as he slams into him, taking exactly what he wants, he can hear Carl practically growling above him as he does. Pete's nearly seeing stars, trying desperately to hold onto consciousness because if he misses this orgasm then pissed is going to be a serious understatement.

 “Oh...oh fuck...” he can hear Carl start gasping above him, and feels his hand move in between them, he holds his breath, waiting for what’s to come. Carl wraps his hand round his cock and Pete cries out, the low moan that Carl's letting out as he comes just makes him shake harder, his arm and legs locked tight around him. He groans as Carl pushes into him one last time before rolling off him, gasping till he catches his breath again.

 Pete thinks that post-orgasm Carl is possibly one of the hottest things he's ever seen as he lies next to him, hair a complete mess, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, breathing heavily. It doesn't take him long though to regain his usual swagger though, he opens his eyes and smirks over at him.

 “You enjoy that love?”

 “You're such a cocky bastard.”

 “Why does no one ever just say yes?” he replied, smirking at him, Pete hits him on the arm.

 “I'm kidding!” he laughs, putting his arm round him, “god...” he kisses Pete on the neck, “is there anyway good way of saying that was the best I've had in ages...and that I've slept with a lot of people so that makes it quite a big deal?”

 Pete smiles, happily wrapped up in him, nuzzling his neck.

“No...I don't think so.”

 “Forget it then,” Carl says laughing slightly, pulling the quilt up over them, “But you've got an amazing arse.”

 “...thanks.”

 It's only about ten o'clock but this doesn't seem to bother either of them, Pete can feel his eyes dropping shut, wondering if he's ever felt more content in his life.

                                                                                    *

 He wakes up, it's early, too early, he's not sure how he knows because he hasn't opened his eyes yet but he's sure that it is. He needs the loo...godsake, he doesn't want to have to move, he's warm and cozy, and possibly in a state of nirvana at having this boy wrapped round him. But he needs to move, he sighs and pulls away from him, Carl mumbles something at him sleepily.

 “Back in a sec,” he tells him.

 He finds his jeans somewhere on the floor, checks his phone, 5am, he's sure such times shouldn't actually exist. He listens carefully at the door for any sign of movement, the bathroom is only across the corridor but he knows if Amy sees him she will probably kill him, or Carl, possibly both of them. He can't hear anything, he pulls on the door but it doesn't open, he frowns then remembers he's in halls, locks on all the doors, and probably a bloody good thing too. He flicks the lock and slips out the door, thankfully making it across the corridor undiscovered.

 When he comes back he shuts the door quietly behind him, slipping his jeans back off and crawling back into bed with him, wondering if there was ever a lovelier feeling. Carl mumbles something at him again and wraps his arms round him, holding him close. Pete feels a worryingly fluttery feeling in his chest and closes his eyes, praying to god he isn't about to wake up at home in the middle of some nowhere-near-satisfying-enough wet dream.

                                                                                    *

 Pete is vaguely aware of a banging sound, he's not really sure where he is or what's going on but someone's wrapped round him and he's very comfortable so he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the noise. He hears Carl mumble something and then the door opens letting a barrage of light in with it. They both groan and pull the quilt up over their heads...then Pete feels his stomach drop as the reality of the situation seems to hit him in the face. They exchange a panicked look under the covers before Pete dares to peek his head over the top.

 His sister does not look impressed. She's still got her dressing gown on, black make up smeared around her eyes adding to the ghost like complexion she seemed to be sporting this morning. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't glaring at him though.

 “CARL!” she shrieks.

Pete slides back underneath the quilt.

 “Oh my god, he's a consenting adult!” Carl rolled his eyes, finally giving in and sitting up, not even bothering to try and hide his state of undress. Pete dared to peek out again. Carl had his arms folded over his stomach, Amy's were on her hips, they were glaring at each other furiously. Pete thought they were quite a match for each other.

 “No one’s a consenting adult when it comes to you!”

 “So I got him drunk and seduced him?” Carl says, glaring at her, suddenly very insulted that she thinks she has any right to tell him who to sleep with.

 “Probably!” she shrieks.

 “I wasn't drunk...” Pete chips in.

 “Shut up!”

 She doesn't seem to be able to look at him at this moment in time.

 “He had half a glass of cider Amy, if that.”

 Her eyes flicked between them for a second before she turned back to Carl.

 “You're nothing but a fucking whore if you think that fucking your best mates little brother is acceptable behaviour,” she said flatly to him, and then turned to address Pete, not quite looking him in the eyes. “Pete, Auntie wants us to go round and see her, we'll need to leave in an hour.”

 She didn't give him chance to reply before she walked out and slammed the door behind her.

 Pete bit his lip, he knew Carl was pissed off, could practically feel it radiating off him...he didn't dare say anything, he decided to wait for him to speak first.

 “You know what?” he said eventually.

 “What?”

 “I am so pissed off right now I think I'm going to fuck you again just to annoy her,” he smiled pleasantly at him and pushed him onto his back, moving down him, scraping his nails down his sides. “Feel free to be as noisy as you like.”

 Pete cringed but he just couldn't push Carl away, he closed his eyes, wondering what on earth he'd got himself into.


	2. Chapter 2

Pete cringed but he just couldn't push Carl away, he closed his eyes, wondering what on earth he'd got himself into.

 “Carl...” he tries to object.

 Carl whips his head back up.

 “What?” he asks, a bit harshly.

 “I...” Pete can't quite make up a sentence. Nice, lovely trying to seduce him Carl had scared him, now that he was pissed off Pete had no idea at all how to deal with him.

 “Do you want this or not?” Carl was glaring up at him.

 “Of course I do it's just...” he started but his breath hitched as Carl slid his mouth round his cock, he raised his eyebrows challengingly at him and Pete gave up and closed his eyes. After a few moments he started to wonder if it was really a good idea to let such an angry boy near his cock. He seemed to be taking his frustrations out on him, sucking him hard and dragging his fingernails down his thighs. He made a mental note if he wanted an amazing blow job all he had to do was piss him off, which apparently wasn't too hard. He tried to breathe, he was aware that Carl was probably trying to make him scream as loud as possible to torment his sister but so far he had managed to keep his mouth shut.

 Carl slid his mouth right to the base of his cock. Pete bit his lip, trying to keep his breathing even...he could do this, he was not a complete slave to his cock... Carl pulled back and gave Peter a smile he didn't entirely trust before he moved up and knelt either side of his chest. Pete felt a sudden wave of panic as he realised what he was meant to do next. He was going to be terrible, he'd never done it before and like this...Carl could easily choke him to death...still, it wouldn't be a bad way to die.

 “You're gonna love it...” Carl said, smirking at him as he took his cock his his hand, giving it a few lazy strokes before tracing it across Pete's lips.

Carl wished he had a camera, he doubted Pete would try and stop him...just the sight of that beautiful boy, looking up at him with big nervous eyes, tentatively parting his lips, flicking a hesitant tongue out over his cock…

 Carl gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, he really didn't think Peter would appreciate him coming all over his face...well he might do, but now wasn't really a time to be trying out such things.

Pete steeled his nerves and opened his mouth properly, putting his hands up to Carl's hips, slowly guiding him into his mouth, flicking his tongue out nervously. Carl felt his hips involuntarily jerk forward, Pete gagged slightly and Carl went to pull back but felt Pete's hand still steady on his hips. Pete tried to relax, he could do this, he wasn't stupid, he knew what a good blow job felt like, all he had to do was do to Carl what he'd want Carl to do to him and hope.

 Carl groaned loudly as Pete started to suck him off, alternately sucking and letting Carl fuck his mouth. Pete was good at it, but the thrill of what he was doing, utterly taking advantage of the poor boy, exactly what he not supposed to be doing look his pleasure to another level. He moaned as Pete started moving his tongue more, long, hard strokes down his cock when he pulled back. He was thrusting into Pete's mouth now, but he didn't seem to be complaining...Carl took his hand, stroked his fingers lightly up Pete's arm before reaching for the lube they'd left on the table.

 Pete blinked as he felt Carl squirt the lube into his hand, surely he wasn't implying what he thought he was...he couldn't fuck Carl...Carl didn't look the kind of person you were allowed to fuck...and besides even if he was he just was not up to that task. He couldn't even fuck a bloody girl, how was he supposed to have any clue what he was...

 “Touch me, Peter...” Carl said, leaning forward and whispering in his ear, “I want to feel you...”

 Peter watched Carl's face intently as he moved his hand up, desperately wishing that he'd change his mind.

 “Come on, Peter...fuck me I want it...”

Carl was playing with his hair, gasping every time Pete took him in his mouth.

 Pete squirmed underneath him, still taking Carl's slow rhythmic thrusts to the back of his throat. He really had no choice...he moved his hands up, took one finger and pushed it tentatively inside him. Carl smirked at him as he started moving his hand.

 “Oh ...you have got such lovely long fingers...”

Pete watched as Carl let his head fall back slightly, eyelashes fluttering as he pushed himself down. Pete was still moving his hand gently, not having the slightest clue whether he was doing the right thing,

 “Come on, Peter, I'm not a bloody girl...”

 Carl was being incredibly difficult, how was Peter supposed to know what that meant? Did that mean he wanted it harder, faster, more fingers? He decided he needed a Carl dictionary. Mumbling appendix included. He opted for harder, Carl gasped and then smiled, Peter took this for encouragement and moved his hand faster.

 “Oh god...”

 Pete felt incredible relief at the fact that Carl was properly moaning now, alternately pushing back on his hand and forward into his mouth. Now that he'd relaxed slightly he began to realise what an amazing sight Carl was, mouth open, moaning loud enough for most of the corridor to hear, looking completely flushed and gorgeous. Pete found his other hand going up into Carl's hair.

 “You are fucking beautiful...”

 It was out of his mouth before he even realised what he was going to say; Carl just grinned at him and resumed his moaning. His thrusts were getting harder, Pete braced himself, once again a slight fear of choking interrupting the incredible view above him.

 “Stop stop...” Carl gasped. Pete froze immediately wondering if he'd hurt him or something, then he felt Carl's hand briefly moving up and down his cock. Before he could even let out a moan Carl had pushed Pete's hand out the way, pulled out of his mouth and pushed himself straight down on his cock.

 Pete cried out, he hadn't been expecting it, and even if he had...

 “Oh...god,” he blinked, “that feels...” he couldn't put it into words, the tight, hot heat around his cock was enough to render him speechless.

 “Good yeah?” Carl said, smirking at him, keeping still for the moment.

 “Yeah...” Pete just about managed. Carl stroked a hand down his cheek smiling at him.

 “Oh Peter...” he said, smiling as he started slowly moving up and down, steadying himself on Pete's shoulders, “I am going to fuck you and fuck you until you lose all your innocence and all of your morals...”

 “I thought you liked my innocence?” Pete just about managed, thinking he could just about take this pace.

 “I do,” he smiled.

 “If you take it all away I'll be just like you...”

 Carl just smiled at him, grin spreading every time he pushed down.

“Well I have always wanted a taller, brown eyed version of me to fuck myself senseless on. The big hands are just a bonus really”

 Peter just blinked, he had no idea how to reply to that and Carl's pace was fast taking away any coherence he had. Carl leaned forward and kissed him, moaning as he did, apparently finding a place that he liked.

 “Just so you know...” he gasped into his ear, “I've never let anyone fuck me before,” and then he started moving his hips so fast Pete couldn't even think of a response.

He thought fleetingly that regardless of the technicalities, Carl was still on top and Pete was pretty sure he was still the one doing the fucking.

 Pete's attempts at being quiet were fast going out the window, he just couldn't help it, he was fast forgetting where he was, let alone who might be listening. Carl's name was on his lips, louder this time. He could feel himself getting close, then felt Carl's hand wrap round the base of his cock.

 “Don't you go spoiling my fun now...” he growled in his ear.

 Pete groaned and let his head sink back into the pillow, wondering if this actually amounted to torture. He watched Carl grinning above him, moaning, not his name though, Pete mentally noted, he seemed to be more one for swearing.

 “Fuuuck...Peterrr....”

Or maybe both. Pete felt a little jolt in his chest at his name on Carl's lips, he was squirming underneath him, sure that this was possibly damaging him somehow.

 “Carl, please...fucking hell please!” he groaned, he didn't care who heard him, getting this release had suddenly become much more important. Carl just grinned down at him.

 “Carl...” he growled, he was clearly enjoying tormenting him a bit too much, Peter was sure that was contributing slightly to the grin on his face.

 “What do you want, Peter?” he breathed innocently at him. Pete ran his nails down Carl's back in response and Carl laughed in between moans.

 “Carl...please...please let me come...”

 He couldn't believe he just said that, and apparently quite loudly. But he got what he wanted, Carl let go of his cock, wrapping his hand around his own instead. Pete cried out loudly as he came, his orgasm shaking his entire body, blinding him momentarily. He felt his head go funny and his feet tingle, gasping out the last of his orgasm just as he felt Carl's cum hitting his chest.

 “Peterrr...” he moaned as he did, grin remaining plastered on his face. Pete closed his eyes, trying to gasp his breath back as Carl slid back off him. The reality of how much his sister, and probably everyone in the corridor, had probably heard was enough to make him go bright red. Carl was still smirking at him.

 “You're very satisfying, Peter...ten out of ten...”

He dipped his fingers in the cum on Peter's chest, holding it up to his lips. Pete blinked at him, still in a daze.

 “Don't you want to taste me, Peter...?” he whispered.

Pete rolled his eyes, he was officially going to ban him from using that voice. He opened his mouth though, letting Carl slip his finger inside his mouth, twirling his tongue round the salty liquid. Carl took his hand back and kissed him, stroking his tongue up against Peter's, kissing him passionately, almost like he loved him.

 He pulled back and checked his watch.

 “My, look at the time, you'd better be getting dressed Peter,” Carl said, smirking at him, rolling to lie on his side next to him.

 Dressed? Peter wasn't at all sure he could stand up, let alone get dressed. He groaned.

 “I can't go back out there.”

 “Well you're going to have to leave sometime...you can't just live in my room...actually...” he reconsidered, grinning at him. His skin was still glowing from his orgasm, a part of Pete's mind was still trying to get over the fact that such a gorgeous boy had had sex with him. Twice. Pete leaned over and kissed him lazily, jumping as he heard three hard knocks on the door.

 “Peter! You coming or what?” she still sounded pissed. Pete couldn't imagine why.

 “Yeah yeah...I'll be out in sec...”   
 He screwed up his eyes and reluctantly got out of bed, grabbing some tissue off Carl's desk, cleaning himself up before his put his jeans and top on, quickly stopping to check he'd not put anything on inside out or the wrong way round. He grabbed a brush off Carl's desk, who wasn't being particularly helpful. He was lying stretched out on his bed, completely naked, watching Peter rushing around in amusement. If Peter didn't feel so guilty he'd have leapt right back into bed with him. He wondered if maybe Carl was right, maybe life would be a hell of a lot easier without morals. He picked up his coat and for a second dithered about whether he was supposed to kiss Carl before he went or not.

 Carl decided this time to be helpful and held out his hand to him, Pete took it and he pulled him closed, kissing him softly on the lips.

 “Have fun at your Aunt's, baby...” he said, smiling coyly at him through his fringe.

Pete was decided, this boy was actually going to be the death of him.

 “PETER!” his sister practically shrieked through the door.

 “I'm coming!”

He slipped on his shoes and opened the door, completely forgetting that Carl was lying naked on the bed. Amy shrieked and turned round.

 “Well, I guess now everyone in the block has seen your cock, not actually as impressive as I've heard,” she said, turning back round, one hand covering her eyes.  

 “Really?” Carl replied calmly, “what do you think, Pete?”

 Pete was already halfway down the stairs, attempting to remove himself from this conversation. He heard Amy slam Carl's door and run down the stairs after him.

 Once she'd caught up with him she didn't say a word. She just walked along beside him in silence, refusing to even look at him. She was wearing jeans and a hoodie, her hair was pulled back and she had her sunglasses on, despite it being quite cloudy. Pete knew all these were signs that his sister had a killer hangover and decided that it was best to stay quiet.

 It occurred to him after a few minutes that he had no idea where they were going, and if Amy wasn't talking to him this was going to be interesting. She grabbed his arm and pulled him down the road to the right. He couldn't help feeling slightly pissed at her, he had just had the most amazing sex of his life, with the most amazingly gorgeous boy, he should be dancing round the sodding lampposts and tap dancing down the pavement, not shuffling along next to his sister feeling guilty. 

 She pulled him down the stairs to the tube station, taking his wrist and pulling him through the busy bustle of the underground on a Saturday lunch time. Pete felt his chest get slightly tight, he did not like the underground at the best of times. She brought them tickets and pulled him onto a train, still refusing to look at him even though they were squashed practically centimetres apart.

 Eventually they made it out of the stuffy underground but Amy's stony silence remained.

 “Amy...” he started.

 “Peter!” she shouted at him, stopping and turning to face him in the middle of the street, causing several people to nearly trip over them. Peter noticed she was still only looking at his chest.

“I have just heard my little brother being fucked by my best friend, for about 45 minutes, and I am telling you no music in the world can drown that out. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

 “I'm sorry, Amy, I tried...”

 “...tried to be quiet? But he was just too good? Peter, do you really think I want to hear that? I don't even like to think about my little brother having any sexual organs or sex life whatsoever, let alone hearing it through my bedroom wall,” she held up her hand to any of Pete's protests, “I cannot even look at you right now Peter. Just shut up, walk next to me, we'll get to our aunt's, we'll make polite conversation and then we will leave. And then maybe in a few weeks I'll consider speaking to you again. How does that sound?”

 Pete just gulped and followed her down the road, genuinely not remembering his sister ever being this annoyed with him before. He started to feel bad, and then felt even worse, this was not fair, he'd done nothing wrong! He was sure, given the same situation with the boy of her dreams, she would have done exactly the same thing. The thought of her having sex made him slightly queasy...maybe she did have a point.


	3. Chapter 3

 Carl leans his head back on the pillow, satisfied, for now at least. He feels slightly guilty that Pete's going to have to endure one of Amy's moods but he's sure she'll get over it. He'd hope that Pete would stand up to her but he imagines there's not much of a chance of that. He'll teach him yet. He pulls the quilt round him tighter, finding the bed significantly less cozy without him in it.

                                                                                    *

 Later that afternoon he's finally dragged himself out of bed and thrown on some clothes, trying desperately to ignore the fact that he seems to already be getting sexually frustrated again. He wonders vaguely if he's actually becoming a sex addict. It's cloudy outside today so he keeps the curtains closed, lets his dirty clothes and dirty bottles remain on the floor, if only to annoy Amy slightly.

 He jumps as he hears Amy's door shut, he doubts she'd have brought Pete back with her. He wonders about going in to see her, but he's not sure he really wants another shouting match. He dithers for a few minutes before deciding that really, Amy is one of his best mates here and losing her would probably not be a good thing.

 He gets up and goes into the kitchen, making them a cup of tea each then nervously knocking on her door. He knows he shouldn't be intimidated by her, he knows really he's a lot smarter, cooler, prettier than her...but really, women generally tend to scare him. That's why he thinks it's usually wise to keep them at arm’s length.

 “Fuck off Carl,” is the response that he gets.

 “I've got tea,” he tries.

 “I've already got a cup of tea.”

 Carl frowns, knowing that he'd have heard her go to the kitchen.

 “No you haven't.”

 She doesn't say anything for a few minutes. Carl sighs and sits down on the floor outside her room, thinking that he might as well put his stubbornness to good use.

 “Carl,” she says after a few minutes, “go away!”

 “Your teas getting cold,” he informs her, continuing to sip on his own.

 He hears her march to the door and open it and gives her his best pathetic look, holding up the cup of tea to her. She doesn't look impressed, she's glowering at him in a way he doesn't think he's ever seen before. She's generally not someone to get angry easily. Eventually she takes the cup of tea off him, leaning against the door frame, still glowering as she takes a few gulps.

 “You're not coming in, I don't care how good your tea is,” she tells him.

 Carl just shrugs and remains where he is, legs crossed and tea balanced in his lap. She sighs and sits down opposite him, crossing her legs and mirroring him.

 “You understand why I'm mad?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. Carl just nods in reply.

 “Are you even going to apologise?”

 “Would it make it any better?”

 “Yes!”

 “I'm sorry.”

 “You didn't mean that.”

 Carl shrugs in reply, she rolls her eyes.

 “I'm sorry I upset you, if that helps?” he tries again.

 “What would you do, Carl, if I shagged your sister?”

 Carl just blinks at the bizarre question.“Erm...I guess I'd be okay with it, I mean you're a nice girl...”

 “Exactly, I'm a nice girl!” She practically screams at him. “And I'd be perfectly okay with it if you were a nice boy. But you're not, you're a twat. I've never seen you treat any of the numerous people that you've slept with anywhere near to decent! You're a user and you leave a trail of wreckage behind you!”

 “I...” Carl blinks, wondering how on earth she's made him feel slightly guilty, “it's not like I ever promised them anything! It's not like I was going out with any of them...”

 “Did you tell my brother it was just a one-time thing?”

 Carl shakes his head.

 “Well, then how on earth is he supposed to know?”

 “It wasn't...” Carl says before he's even thought about it. Amy raises her eyebrows.

 “Pardon?”

 Carl looks down into his tea.

 “Carl...” She looks at him very suspiciously, “do you like him?”

 Carl rolls his eyes. “Of course I like him...”

 “No, I mean do you _like_ him.”

 Carl wonders at what point they ended up in this childish conversation. He doesn't reply and refuses to look up from his tea.

 “Carl!”

 He sighs and looks up at her, “What?”

 “Oh my god. Do you have actual feelings for someone that are coming from somewhere other than your cock?”

 He glares at her, but he is the one meant to be making friends with her, so he stays put for the moment.

 “Oh my god that is so cute!”

 Carl rolls his eyes.

  “Oh my god, I'm going to tell him!” she exclaims, jumping up and looking over to her phone, but Carl's faster and puts his hand down on it before she's even got halfway across the room.

 “Don't you dare.”

 She folds her arms. “Why not?”

 “Because! We're not in year five and you don't go round telling people that your friend fancies them!” 

 She sighs and sits back down on her bed.

 “Fine. I won't tell him. On one condition.”

Carl raises his eyebrows questioningly.

 “You so much as look at anyone else twice and I'll tell him you're in love with him.”

 “I'm not in love with him!” Carl rolls his eyes at her exaggerating.

 “I know, but that's what I'll tell him. And he'll run off scared and never have sex with you again, do you get my point?”

 “Yes,” Carl sighed reluctantly.

She smiles at him. “Good.”

                                                                         *

 

 Peter's trying to calm down, this train is even busier than the last one, and yet he's barely noticed at all. He's standing, or practically being pressed into the corner by the other doors, the isles are jam packed, no one can get on at any station. It's noisy, it's raining outside so it feels disgustingly humid in there but none of this seems to be bothering him at the moment.

 He's realised since leaving Amy that this may all have been a very big mistake. Before, he had a crush on Carl, innocent enough and easy enough to get rid of, or ignore at the very least. Now however, he knew what it felt like to have his lips on his, his arms tight around his waist, desperately pulling them closer together. And he knew that such a feeling, such a connection he'd felt with him, was not going to be as easy to forget.

 It would be all well and good if Carl was a girl. Or even if he was just a regular boy. But Carl was a slag, something that had been spelt out to him repeatedly over the last 24 hours, even by Carl himself. And he'd said lovely things to him, that he felt amazing, that he'd been the best but really...that could easily be what he told everyone. He didn't trust him in the slightest, and yet that didn't seem to be stopping his heart skipping every time he thought of the way he'd kissed him, the way he'd...

 He screwed up his eyes, stop it Peter. He probably didn't even want to see him again, he doubted he'd even think about him again. He just needed to forget about him, move on Peter. Everyone gets lucky once in their life, he should just be glad that it had happened and move on.

                                                                                    *

 Peter was lying in bed having serious issues sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes he was seeing Carl's above his own, smiling mischievously down at him. He could practically feel his hands on his hips, when he'd slipped them under his jeans...he rolled over and buried his head in the pillow, this was not working. 

 He wasn't going to do this; he had his hands underneath his head, refusing to let them anywhere near his boxers. Wanking over him would be the most detrimental thing he could do. But he could practically hear Carl moaning, moving above him, hair in his eyes, lips slightly open...he gritted his teeth and pushed his hips down into his mattress. It was nowhere near enough. 

                                                                                    *

 Carl had somehow managed to be dragged out by Amy on Wednesday, apparently so he could buy her a drink to make up for his sins. She'd made him put a shirt on, apparently it was a smartish place they were going to. He'd reluctantly settled on a black one with two buttons open at the top with his black jeans. Smart enough to get in, casual enough not to hate himself every time he looked in the mirror. They'd met a group of Amy's friends, one of whom, a ginger lass with pale skin and beautiful green eyes, kept smiling at him. She was new apparently, had transferred from a different university. She had a pretty silver dress on with matching silver heels, a glass of white wine in her hand. Carl thought she looked shockingly classy for a student.   
 He started talking to her, purely out of politeness of course, that and the fact that she was far more interesting than any of Amy's other friends. She told him she was a mature student, 27, that she'd moved up from Devon because the course was apparently better here. She wanted to go outside for a cigarette, so Carl followed her, offering her his lighter. Amy didn't even notice them go.

 They leant back against the cold brick of the club, vaguely watching the groups of people walking past in various stages of inebriation. It was freezing, Carl looked up, he could see the moon clearly, a clear night.

 “Have you got a girlfriend then?” she asked him, smiling playfully.

 “No.” Carl reasoned that it wasn't a lie in the slightest.

 She just smiled at him, dragging on her cigarette and taking another drink of her wine. He couldn't bring himself to make a move on her, she was gorgeous, but it wasn't that he was feeling remotely shy in the slightest. Or that he was worried Amy was going to come out and catch them, she very rarely came outside on nights out, not being a smoker and hating the cold. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

 She moved towards him, Carl moved back slightly. She smiled at him, assuming he was shy, running an elegant finger down his cheek,

 “You have beautiful eyes...” she told him, leaning in towards him. Carl didn't know why, but something suddenly felt very, very wrong. He practically jumped away from her.

 “I'm sorry, I...can't do this...” He didn't bother to stick around to see the look on her face, instead he turned on his heels and jumped into the nearest taxi, slamming the door behind him. He blinked at what he'd just done, watching the lights speed past him in a blur. She was beautiful, she'd been lovely, she'd obviously just been up for a bit of fun and nothing too serious. He furrowed his eyebrows, he was still slightly tipsy, still couldn't think in the correct manner. He paid the taxi and fumbled with his key in the door and slowly made his way up the stairs.

 He locked his door behind him, flicking off the light and pulling off his shirt, he bloody hated the things. He sat down on the edge of his bed, it was only half ten, he wasn't tired. He walked over to the window and opened it, lighting up and trying to stick his head out the window enough to avoid setting off the smoke alarm.

 He sucked hard on it, trying to clear his mind. He was thinking of Peter, he knew he was, wanted him back in his bed. It was ridiculous, he wanted a shag, one had been clearly offered to him and he'd freaked out and ran away. This was not the sort of thing that he did. And now he was looking out over the street, yearning for the feel of that bloody boy, desperate for him.

 Carl really did not do relationships. He thought they were stupid, a waste of time. No one could be faithful forever, he didn't think people were built that way. There was always going to be someone else you fancied, one of you was going to get bored, and either cheat or resent the other one for not being able to cheat. It was just a disaster waiting to happen, really. People were just desperate and scared, needed to know there would be someone waiting for them when they came back home. Someone to cuddle up with, to make them feel like they'd succeeded in life, that somebody wanted them.

 Carl did not need any of that artificial reassurance, thank you very much. He cherished his friends very highly, but sexual relationships were just that. He'd thought that maybe one day, if he found some like-minded individual they might be able to be close friends, have sex on a regular basis but also have sex with other people as well. He'd thought that would be the only relationship he'd be able to stand.

 But now...it should have been clear to him the second he'd realised he was fancying someone while sober, the second he'd felt any inclination to protect him, keep him safe, keep him to himself. He frowned at his thoughts. He tried thinking of Peter with someone else, to see how that made him feel. With the ginger lass, he imagined her grinning at Peter, taking advantage of him, kissing him, touching him, his realised his knuckles had gone white and he'd practically snapped his cigarette in half. This was not good.

 He got into bed and picked up his book, resolving to read until he felt tired enough to go to sleep. He was just drifting off when he heard Amy's voice coming up the stairs.

 “Yeah I know she was wasted, right? Okay, yeah I'll see you tomorrow, night!”

 Carl waited until he heard the other person’s footsteps making their way to the floor above and walked out onto the landing. He found Amy in the kitchen making a cup of tea. She looked slightly out of place in her glittery dress and high heels standing in a dull coloured kitchen.

 “Hey,” he yawned, “put some on for me, yeah?”

 She jumped out of her skin.

 “Carl! What are you doing here?”

 “What do you mean?” he frowned. “I left early I...had a headache. Sorry I didn't tell you where I was going...” then he realised what she must have thought.

 “But you and Lindsey...”

 “Oh! No, no, didn't she come back in either? No we just went outside for a fag then I jumped in a taxi.”

 “No, she didn't,” Amy said, frowning at him, handing him a cup of tea. “Are you sure she's not in your room?”

 Carl laughed. “You can go and check if you like.”

 “No, I think I trust you,” she said but was still frowning at him. Carl pretended not to notice and sat down on one of the chairs, feeling his eyes dropping again.

 “Carl, why did you really leave?”

 “I had a...”

 “Don't lie to me, you know I can tell when you're lying.”

 Carl sighed.

 “So you went outside,” Amy frowned, “she obviously fancied you...you hit on her, and she knocked you back?”

 Carl scoffed. “As if.”

 Amy smiled at him. “So she hit on you, and you said no!”

 Carl sighed, “All right, yes, so what?”

 “Oh Carl,” she shook her head at him, looking like some sort of proud parent. “You're getting so grown up!”

 Carl just flicked his fingers up at her, taking another gulp of his tea.

 “I think I need to go to bed.”

 “Do you want his number?”

 “Pete's?”

 “Yeah.”

 “I didn't realise he had a mobile...”

 “He's a spoilt brat, of course he's got a mobile.” She scribbled down his number on a piece of paper.

 “Thanks,” Carl said reluctantly.

 “Night Carl,” she smiled at him knowingly. He just rolled his eyes at her and walked out the room.

 He walked into his room, locking the door behind him. He wasn't going to call him, what could he say? He threw his clothes on the floor and got into bed, rolling his eyes on the ridiculous hard on that seemed to be determined to make itself known. He gave in, brushing his hair out of his eyes, moving his hand down to his cock. He closed his eyes, there was nothing but Peter in his head. Gorgeous innocent Peter, lying underneath him, huge brown eyes filled with amazement at this new feeling, begging him for more. He looked over at his phone and picked it up with his spare hand.

                                                                                    *

 Peter was starting to get sick of this, it was getting ridiculous, how many more nights was he going to be kept awake into the early hours thinking of him? He'd been trying, so very hard, not to think about him in any way that might be in the remotest bit sexual. Every night he'd given in, hand round his cock, eyes closed, an imaginary Carl pushing inside him, moaning in his ear. He decided once again it was getting too late to be up, he had to go to school in the morning, had to think about important things. It was worth the sacrifice; he was convinced that maybe soon he'd tire of imagining him as he stroked himself, that the image might replace itself with another.

 He moved his hand down and jumped as his phone rang. People very rarely called him, he was one of the few people at school with a mobile. It was an unknown number, he picked it up purely out of curiosity.

 “Hello?”

 “Peter...” Pete's eyes widened as he immediately identified the voice moaning down the phone at him as Carl's.

 “Carl?” he asked anyway.

 “Peter, seriously, what have you done to me?”

 Pete frowned. “What do you mean?” He heard Carl's breath hitch, his breaths becoming shorter.

 “God I want to fuck you again...I need to feel you again, Peter, I need to touch you...”

 Pete was trying to formulate a logical reply, though he wasn't entirely sure if Carl really wanted one.

 “Peter, talk to me...”

 Pete wondered if he'd ever felt more awkward and lost for words in his life.

 “What do you want me to say?” he asked, thinking he could die of embarrassment quite easily right now.

 “Tell me...”

 “Tell you what?” Pete was getting progressively more nonplussed by this conversation.

 “Are you hard, Peter?”

 “Of course I fucking am...” What a stupid question.

 “Are you touching yourself?”

 “...well yeah...” He could feel his cheeks burning already.

 “Are you thinking of me?”

 “I've been able to think of little else for all week.” He should not have just told him that.

 “Come on, Peter, I want to hear you moaning, I need to hear you...”

 Pete blinked, moving his hands faster, letting out a gasp.

 “Peterrr...” Carl was moaning at him again, “tell me what you want me to do to you...”

 Peter just moaned at the thought, a million possible replies flying through his head.

 “Come on, Peter, you're meant to be master of words aren't you...”

 “Not when you're reducing me to this...”

 Carl's breathing on the other end of the phone was possibly even more distracting that his moaning.

 “Close your eyes,” Carl instructed, Pete did so.

 “Imagine me, tell me what I'm doing...”

 Pete decided since he'd been fantasising about this boy for the most part of the week that he might as well indulge him.

 “You're on top of me...”

 “That's not very specific is it, Peter?”

 Pete just rolled his eyes. 

 “Am I fucking you?”

 “Yes...” Pete said through gritted teeth, this was winding him up far too much for his liking.

 “Slow or fast?”

 “Slow...”

 “Really?” Carl sounded surprised, “I'm pretty sure I've never fucked anyone slowly. But I can try if you like...”

 “You're so kind.”

 “How do I feel, Peter?”

 “...nice.”

 “Peter, you're hopeless at this.” Carl is laughing down the phone at him.

 “So are you,” Pete automatically retorts, he realises immediately that this was a mistake.

 “I am not!” Carl says indignantly, then pauses for a few moments. “Peter...oh Peter you feel so good, you feel so tight around my cock...oh god you’re making me so hard...”

 Pete bites his lip, “You're such a slag...”

 “I'm your slag...”

 “Like you'd ever belong to anyone.”

 “I could belong to you.”

 Peter feels his heart skip, Carl's still breathing fast down the phone.

 “Could you?”       

 Carl doesn't reply, he just starts moaning again.

 “Get yourself close...” Carl tells him, it isn't difficult for Pete to comply.

 “God,” Pete gasps, he guesses really this is in an improvement, wanking over an imaginary Carl moaning, to actually listening to Carl moaning is probably a step away from desperately pathetic.

 “Mmm, Peter, you're so obedient.”

 Pete doesn't know quite how to reply to this, he just lets Carl hear him breathing down the phone, moves his hand faster.

 “Fuck, Peter...come with me, yeah?”

 “Yeah,” Pete closes his eyes, imagining Carl above him again.

 “Peter...now...” Carl moans at him. Pete gasps down the phone at him, Carl smiles at how compliant he is, practically to the very second. Carl happily takes himself over the edge.

 “Oh god Pete...” he moans, hearing Pete gasping his breath back.

 Pete doesn't know exactly what to say, he holds the phone with his shoulder, grabbing some tissues off the side of his bed.

 “How are you, Peter?”

 “I'm...feeling a little bit better thanks, how are you?”

 “I'm all good. How's school?”

 “Boring,” Pete replies, slightly confused that Carl seems to think its okay to casually switch from having phone sex to having a normal conversation. “How's your week going?”

 “Slowly.”

 Suddenly Pete doesn't know what to say again, the fact that he's talking to this boy who's older, cooler and significantly prettier than him seems to have rendered him speechless again.

 “You doing anything this weekend?” Carl asks him.

 “No.” Pete can just about manage to answer that one.

 “I think you should come and see me.”

 “I don't think Amy would let me...”

 “Oh she's forgiven us.”

 “Really?” Pete raises his eyebrows.

 “Yeah, I talked her round.”

 “Seriously?”

 “Yeah,” Carl says like it was the easiest thing in the world.

 “Oh, well then yeah I guess...”

 “You guess? Peter aren't you gagging for me to fuck your brains out?”

 “Carl, I swear, you wind me up again I will kill you.”

 “You wouldn't kill me.”

 “I might put sugar in your tea when you weren't looking.”

 “You're a sick bastard.”

Pete laughs. “Yeah, I'll come see you.”

 “Mmm I really cannot wait.”

 “When do you finish lectures on Friday?”

 “Lectures?” Carl blinks.

 Pete laughs again. “Okay, I'll just come by after school, how's that?”

 “Perfect. I might tie you up, how do you feel about that?”

 “Um...” Pete wonders whether it would be wise to let Carl tie him up, when he's enough of a tease as it is without handcuffs involved. Then again he doesn't really think he'd ever be able to say no to anything he suggested.

 “I think you'd like it...”

 “Carl, seriously, wind me up again...I'm trying to get to sleep...”

 “You know what, don't get changed on Friday, I want see you in your school uniform...”

 “ _Carl_...” Pete tries to sound threatening, it doesn't work.

 “Do you have wear ties?”

 “Yeah.”

 Carl laughs. “Perfect.”

 “Good night, Carl.” Pete says firmly, watching his clock tick over to midnight.

 “Good night gorgeous, dream of me...”

 Pete is very glad Carl hangs up the phone at that point because he doesn't think he'd be able to think of a reply for that one. He curses as he realises he's even more awake than his was before, nerves brewing already at the thought of seeing him again. He honestly doesn't know why he wants to, he must have plenty of other more convenient people there to have sex with. Still, he imagines he's probably getting bored with them. Not that he's complaining anyway. He knows he said it was one time and forget it, but he was pretty sure it was easily adaptable to two times and forget it.

 He'd be utterly stupid to say no to that boy anyway. He finds himself running over everything Carl's said to him in the past few minutes, other than the moaning.  Trying to get some kind of clue of what he's thinking. “I could be yours”...Peter imagines that's just another line, just another hook.

 He must have been telling the truth about Amy though, there's no other way he could have got his number. And he must have been thinking about him, to randomly call him at such a time. He still can't work out why Carl's picked him. He can understand that he just wants him for sex, and he doesn't care about that, he just doesn't know why he'd choose _him_ , of all people.


	4. Chapter 4

 Carl is sitting in his lecture, this is quite an usual event for him. He can tell this because as he walks in the students and the lecturer give him a slightly confused look, wondering if he's in the right class. He sits on his own; he can't be bothered to make friends on a Friday afternoon of all things. He's only resorted to this because he was sick of sitting in his room watching the clock and trying to concentrate on something, anything, waiting for Peter to turn up.

 He has made an effort at least; he has paper, a pen and a bottle of water. He's even got the text they're studying, open at the right place and it's even highlighted. He's made the effort, but now he's here he's starting to think it might have been a very bad idea. The fact that he hasn't been to a lecture in two weeks is starting to show, before, at the start, he could keep up quite easily. Now though he can't seem to follow what the man's saying, he's referring to terms, books, things, that Carl hasn't even heard of. It worries him slightly that he doesn't really care.

 For all his bravado, he's getting a very unsettling feeling in his stomach lately. For all he says about not believing in fate, or meaning...of just blagging your way through life and enjoying it...he's starting to think that this is not where he's meant to be. If he's completely honest he thinks he's known from the first week at uni that this was not where he should be. London yes, this course, this university, these people...no. He keeps telling himself he just needs to stick it out another week, that he'll fit in with it somehow, it'll start to feel right, but it's not happening.

 He looks down at his paper and starts doodling, now completely giving up on listening to the lecture. He's considered dropping out many times before, but he always stops short when he realises he has no alternative plan. He's not sure how coming here to uni became the plan, becoming an actor always was the plan, but now he's here he's pretty sure they're more training them to be drama teachers more than actual actors. He imagines that's what happens to most of them.

 He's been to auditions, not that he'd tell anyone, and been knocked back from them all. There was only so long he could go thinking that they were just stupid and didn't know what they were looking for and didn't recognise his talent. He was, he imagined, feeling like thousands of hopefuls did on a day to day basis. Having to face the reality that all that they'd dreamed of, might not be achievable. That they didn't have that spark, that special talent that was going to get them where they wanted to be. They were in fact going to be just the same as everybody else, doomed to a mundane life of suburbia, house and two kids, growing old and wondering what would have happened if they could have been someone better.

 He feels cold, he's never let himself go down the line of thinking so far before. He feels terrified, if his place isn't here, on a stage, where is it? There's nothing else he can see himself doing, he's sure there's no other place for him than performing. He feels sick. He can feel his breaths getting shorted. God's sake Carl, get it together.

 He looks up, they're only half way through the lecture. He can't hack this. He swiftly scoops his belongings into his bag and slips out the lecture theatre, he needs some water, just needs to calm down. He skids into the nearest bathroom, dropping his battered rucksack on the floor with a clatter, he can feel sick coming up his throat. He shuts himself in the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet, giving in and throwing up.

 His heads spinning, he can't stop retching, he takes a deep breath. He's resting his head on the toilet seat, he can feel tears in his eyes. It's only then that it really occurs to him how much all this meant to him, how much he wanted it, and now...he can feel it slipping away with terrifying swiftness.

 He takes another deep breath, grabbing some of the toilet paper and wiping his mouth, dragging himself back up to his feet, wiping his eyes hastily. The faded blue bathroom with faded paint and graffiti scribbled all over it slowly comes back into focus. He walks out to wash his hands, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror and sighing, walking over to check he's not messed up his top.

 No, his top is perfect, his jeans are still fitting him perfectly, his arms have just the right amount of tone to them, his hairs just like he likes it, Pete would be a fool to resist. But as he finally looks up to check his face and sees how pale he is, the bags under his eyes, his chapped lips...but that's not the worst of it. The worst is looking into his eyes and seeing a completely empty boy, no place in the world, no purpose, what if he never fitted in anywhere? He jumped as he heard someone else enter the bathroom.

 He picked up his bag casually, giving every impression that he hadn't been standing there gazing at his reflection for the past god knows how long. He doesn't even look at the other boy as he walks out. He slows as he walks out onto the court yard, wondering what to do next. He doesn't want to go home, more having to face himself and wait for Peter. He checks his watch, thinking he might as well wander over to the train station and wait for him there.

 It's cloudy today, cold. He should have brought a jacket, or at least a scarf. He stops to light a cigarette, cursing the wind that keeps blowing his lighter out. Eventually he manages it but the wind continues to irritate him blowing his hair all over his face. He's scowling, he knows he is, he needs to cheer up and put some sort of charming smile on his face before he meets Peter. He thinks he'd scare the boy off with a look like this.

 He's slowly having to come to terms with the fact that he might actually like him. Might have actual normal feeling for him that he thought he was incapable of feeling. A part of him feels glad about this. Before he'd had to see it as a positive, not falling for people had seemed like the perfect plan, all of the sex, none of the heartbreak. Now though he just feels incredibly glad that he's not some sort of dead inside freak.

 And if he likes him, he's going to have to do his best to keep him. He knows he's besotted with him at the moment, but he needs more than that. He's sure it's purely sexual attraction at the moment, he needs to make it more. He needs Pete to know he's serious, that he's not just like every other person he's invited into his bed. How he's going to do that he is not entirely sure. If he had any money at all he'd take him out for a meal or something, but he's skint. He can't actually remember the last time he had money. All he has now is favours owed him by various people. This gives him an idea.

He needs a pick me up, he can't let Pete see him like this.                                                               

*

 He gasps as he brings his head up, crinkling the foil packet and slipping it in his pocket. He blinks at his reflection in the mirror, he doesn't look any different yet, but he knows it will come. He fiddles with his hair and walks out the room, back out onto the streets, feeling distinctly more able to deal with the world now. It's obvious to him now what he should do, he should go to the station and meet Peter, whisk him off his feet, take him back to the flat and devour him. He grins to himself, turning back in the direction of the station, practically skipping down the tube steps. He slips, his converse skidding on a spilt drink or something; he catches himself a few inches from the floor. He just laughs, pulling himself up and dashing onto the nearest train.

                                                                                    *

He still feels the slight tingling of nerves though as waits for Pete outside the station, he's not feeling nearly as confident as he usually is. Sure, he's an expert at chatting people up and getting them into his bed. He's never really had much experience of getting them to stay there...apart from in the literal sense. He smirks slightly to himself, finding somewhere to stand in the station among the hoards of commuters making their way home. It scares him even more today, the sea of black suits, as it's now seeming very likely he might have to join them and get a dreaded proper job.

                                                                                    *

Pete is getting ready for another nightmare experience on the tube, it's busy, he doesn't know why he didn't just tell Carl Saturday morning instead. He imagines it would be just as bad, but at least he'd be avoiding the rush hour. He's not sure if he'd rather be squashed between god knows how many tired, busy, stressed out people in suits or god knows how many shoppers with their dozens of bags, prams and noisy children. This is probably actually better.

 He doesn't have a clue how he's going to play this. It occurs to him he really should have come up with some of plan, but all he can come up with is a ridiculous amount of nerves in his stomach. He's been telling himself he'll be inspired on the way, walking has always cleared his head. Another part of him is thinking he's thinking far too much about it, it's just a shag, he's just going to go, be shagged and come home again. End of.

 He walks up the stairs, chest tightening slightly at the sight of all the people milling round the station. He resolves to keep his head down and just head straight for the underground. This how, he thinks later, he managed to walk straight past him.

 “Peter! Peter!”

 He turns round, confused, until he sees Carl a few meters away from him, he smiles, completely taken aback by the fact that Carl's come to meet him from the station. He has no time to comprehend what that might mean before Carl's thrown his arms round him. Pete hugs him back, trying to quell a sudden rush a sexual frustration that seem to have come from having him so close again. Something that Carl doesn’t fail to notice. He smirks up at him and lets out a low chuckle.

 “Missed me?”

 Pete just blushes and looks down.

 “Come on, I think we're slightly in the way here.” Carl takes his hand and leads him down into the underground. Peter hates the underground in winter, it's as hot as in the summer but with extra layers of clothing that you can't take off because there's not enough room.

 Peter barely sees where they’re going as Carl pulls him onto a train, seemingly unconcerned by the sheer amount of people around them. Pete tries to back in to one of the corners, thinking he might be able to salvage a pocket of space. Carl immediately follows him, occupying what little space Pete might have hoped to breathe in. Some more people push onto the train and Carl ends up pushed flush up against him. Carl looks up at him innocently but Pete doesn't believe his facade for a second. Believes it even less when Carl snakes his arms round his waist and leans his head on his chest, pushing his hips slightly into Pete's. Pete grits his teeth, trying to keep a level head, and not to let Carl wrap his round his little finger just yet. Carl kisses his neck, Pete squirms against him, his hands tight on Carl's belt for lack of anything else to hold on to.

 He worries for a second that someone's going to start screaming in disgust at them, but really, it's London, and they're on the tube, no one ever looks up from their phone/book/piece of floor long enough to register anyone else. He notices only half interestedly that the world seems to be melting away from him slightly, there's just Carl now, none of the commuters making feel anxious, no tiny train carriage making him feel claustrophobic. This may well be because he has his eyes closed, head resting on top of Carl's, letting him continue to devour his neck.

 He just about catches two words Carl whispers in his ear (“missed you...”) before he's pulling him back off the tube and up the stairs. The amount of people vs small amount of space hits Pete full in the face as they head towards the ticket barriers and he moves closer to Carl, partly hoping it'll make everything disappear again.

 Eventually they get out and up into the open air, freezing though it is. Carl puts his arm round his waist and Pete does likewise, thought somewhat more awkwardly. He hates being so tall sometimes.

 They chat idly, football, weather, school/uni....Pete can't help but notice that Carl seems a bit overly happy about everything today. It's not that he's particularly miserable usually, more that he tends to view things in a dryly sarcastic manor and now he's practically grinning ear to ear about everything Pete mentions. He'd like to think that he's just happy to see him, but for some reason he seriously doubts this and starts to suspect other involvement. Not that it particularly bothers him, he's just a little wary that this might not be exactly the same Carl he'd met before. 

 It's only when Carl slips his hand into Pete's blazer to hold him closer that he seems to realise Pete's done as he was told and is still wearing his school uniform.

 “Oh, Peter...you spoil me...”

 Pete tries to shrug it off, “well it was easier than getting changed...”

 Carl smirks at him, clearly not believing a word.

 “I...” Pete tries to protest, his only line of argument though would be that Carl told him to. He isn't sure if he wants to admit that either.

 Carl just laughs. “It's okay.” He leans up and kisses him chastely on the lips. Pete can't help the ridiculous grin that spreads over his face, nearly enough to match the beam Carl is giving him.

 They get back Carl's halls and Pete momentarily wonders where his sister is, whether he should have told her he was coming.

 “Amy's out, by the way. She said she was going to go visit one of her mates in Leeds...” Carl says, seeing Pete looking cautiously over at her door as they walk past her bedroom.

 “That's convenient,” Pete says, smiling at him, thinking he's gone to a lot more effort to arrange this than he's letting on.

 “Mmm,” Carl nods, smirking slightly, opening his door, “I'm just going to the loo, make yourself at home,” he tells him, smiling.

 “Okay,” Pete says, looking round Carl's room awkwardly as he walks out. He wanders over to his book shelf, his usual way of judging people. He runs his fingers over the dusty spines, they're all old, second hand copies, much nicer Pete's always thought. He walks over to the window, it's getting dark outside already, threatening with rain. He pulls the curtains, flicking on the light and sitting on the bed nervously.

 Carl's guitar is propped up against his bed and Pete is incredibly tempted to pick it up but he can see it ending in disaster. People tended to be possessive of their guitars, and it could be expensive, he doubts he'd be able to tell. He’s been dying to meet someone who could make his guitar skills...actual skills instead of well meaning fumblings of putting chords together. He wonders whether Carl would be up for it at all, he twists his hands awkwardly in his lap, unsure of what to do.

He looks up nervously as Carl walks back into his room, clicking the door shut behind him. He should mention the guitar, mention something, strike up some sort of conversation so Carl doesn’t think he’s a complete moron.

“I like your guitar.” _Wow Pete. That was an amazing attempt at conversation_. He despairs of himself.

“Thanks.” Carl grins, walking round Pete and lying on his bed, holding his hand out for Pete to come and join him. Pete gives up any attempt at guitar-based conversation and takes his hand, letting him pull him on top of him. Pete hovers with his elbows propping him up on the bed either side of the pillows, trying not to look as nervous as he is.   
Carl’s started playing with his tie, twisting it in his fingers and smirking up at him.   
“What?” Pete asks suspiciously.

“Nothing.” Carl just smiles innocently back at him and leans up to kiss him, his hands making their way down to Pete’s arse, pulling him down, rolling his hips and generally leaving Pete gasping into his kisses. Carl slides his hands underneath his waist band and moves his hands down, running his fingers in teasing circles in between Pete’s legs and down his thighs.

Pete squirms, biting down on Carl’s lip slightly, he hears Carl chuckle and blushes, wishing he could turn Carl on this much by doing so little. He finds himself cursing his lack of experience once again. As Carl continues to tease him he tries to resist the urge to just to get up, tear all his clothes off, lie on his bed and tell him to get the fuck on with it. It would be a little forward of him.

Pete closes his eyes, rolling his hips down then arching up to Carl’s hands. He knows exactly what he’d like to do...he’d grab his head and force it in between his legs, tangle his fingers in his hair...

 Carl breaks his line of thought by flipping them over. Pete has barely time to realise what’s happening before Carl’s taken his tie from round his neck and used it to tie his wrists together round one of his bed posts.

 “No...” Pete whines, pulling on his wrists as Carl moves back and steps off the bed. Carl’s grinning at him, a glint in his eyes that suggests to Peter he’s going to get far too much pleasure out of teasing him.

“Really Peter...you should have seen that coming...” Carl laughs and starts to take off his clothes, far too far away from him for Pete’s liking. Pete closes his eyes and bites his lip, trying to get some control over his thoughts.

“No, open your eyes.”

Pete doesn’t.

“Now.” Pete’s eyes snap open at the firm tone in Carl’s low voice, his heart beginning to race.

Carl gives him a dirty smirk, sliding off his jeans and his boxers.

“You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you?” he whispers huskily in his ear as he pulls off Pete’s trousers, undoes his shirt and straddles his lap.

Peter just blinks at him, the feel of Carl’s bare skin against his own again appears to have melted his brain.

“Peter...” Carl says a little more sternly as Pete fails to reply.

“Yes...” Pete replies automatically. Really, Carl’s right, he should have seen this coming. Carl’s very into sex, he’s got a smirk and a glint in his eye that Peter new from the beginning probably meant mischief, it follows really he’d be into a bit of kink. That and all the leather.

 “You’re going to be a good boy and hold yourself back aren’t you?” Carl asks him, starting to stroke his cock through his boxers, “and come only well I tell you to?”

Pete just nods, thinking that given the situation agreeing is probably the only option he has.

Carl grins at him. “Oh good.”

 He slides down him pulling his boxers down and taking his cock in his hand, stroking him teasingly gently, flicking his tongue out over the head of his cock.

Pete screws his eyes up, pulling on his wrists. Carl teases him for a few more minutes and Pete starts to wonder how strong his tie really is. He pulls harder. Carl just laughs at his vain attempts to get his hands free.

“No chance,” he says, smirking at him before sliding his mouth down his cock.

“Oh fuck yes....” Pete moans, immediately clamping his mouth shut when he realised how loudly he just reacted. His cheeks flush again. Carl laughs and sucks him off for a few more minutes, so hard and fast Pete thinks he’s going to end up ruining Carl’s little game. Carl abruptly stops and moves, turning round on top of him so his mouth is still over Pete’s cock but Pete has equally close access to his.   
Pete lifts his head forward far more eagerly than he probably should, licking out at Carl’s cock, desperate to taste him again. Carl moves back slightly, letting Pete suck him properly.

“Mmm Peter...” he smiles before moving his head back in between Pete’s legs. Pete pulls at his arms, he wants to pull Carl closer down on top of him, grab his hips, suck him off properly... he gasps as Carl wraps his mouth back round his cock. His moans are lost around Carl’s cock as he starts pushing back harder into Pete’s mouth. Pete doesn’t care, starts wishing he’d push harder, back into his throat. He wants to take as much as he can, do as much as he can for this gorgeous boy...

 Carl moves forward slightly and Pete takes the slight advantage, moving his head back off Carl’s cock, stretching up as much as he can and sliding his tongue inbetween Carl’s legs, flicking his tongue out at his arse.

“Fuck...”

Pete feels Carl shiver and smiles, licking his tongue out faster. He feels Carl push back against him, putting himself completely in Pete’s reach. Pete licks out harder, pushes his tongue inside him, desperate to do this, desperate to taste him. He can feel Carl’s legs shaking slightly, before he turns round and pulls his hands free.

“Fuck, touch me Pete...” Carl’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes half closed and fluttering. Pete does as he’s told and grabs Carl’s lube from the side of his bed and starts fucking him with his fingers. Carl whimpers, lays down flush on top of him so Pete can feel every tremor and hear every sigh and whimper falling from his lips. He’s not exactly sure how he’s turned this round, but really isn’t complaining.

He pushes his fingers harder and Carl bites down on Pete’s collar bone, groaning, grinding his throbbing erection against his stomach. He pushes himself up.

“Get on top of me...”

“What?” Pete asks blearily, his hazy mind not quite comprehending what Carl wants him to do.

Carl rolls his eyes and gets up off him and gets onto his hands and knees on the floor, thinking he really can’t spell it out any plainer than that. Pete blinks and joins him on the floor, kneeling either side of his legs and grabbing his hips, pulling him back slowly onto his cock.

“Fuck yes....” he moans, the tight heat of Carl’s arse around him making him forget where he is and that people have potential to hear him.

“Pete...” Carl says as he starts to fuck him, slowly at first, trying not to get carried away. “Faster. Much fucking faster than that...”

Pete thinks that’s all well and good for him to say, but he’s not the one that has to concentrate on lasting more than about 30 fucking seconds. Still, it’s Carl and he’s in between his legs so of course he complies, his hands tight around Carl’s hips, trying to get a better grip. He grits his teeth, trying not to hear Carl whimpering below him and let it bring him even closer.

“Harder...harder Peter...”

Pete rolls his eyes, trying to keep up with Carl’s demands.

“Oh fuck yes...like that..Peter...Peter...oh...fuck...yes...there...”

Carl’s panting now.

“Carl...please...please...I need to...”

“No...no...more...harder...”

Pete groans, desperately clinging to his one sane thought that he wants to make Carl scream properly.

“Oh yes...yes...yes...”

Pete tries again desperately not to hear him.

“Pete...now...now...Pete come for me...”

Pete cries out as he moves faster, fucking him harder than he’d ever allow himself if he knew he had to last, moving erratically, moving to his body’s every need. He feels himself getting closer and leans down over him, kissing his neck, biting down on his shoulders, moving his hand round to Carl’s cock. He cries out in unison with Carl as he feels him coming in his hand, feels his arse clenching round his cock, feels wave after wave of pleasure flooding over him.

“Oh...god...” he says, blinking as the last of the aftershocks pass through him.

Carl just chuckles to himself, pulling away from him and grabbing the tissues off his desk, pulling his boxers back on and sitting back on the bed before Pete’s even managed to process the thought of standing up.

 He puts his hand out to Peter again and Pete just about manages to make it onto the bed next to him. Carl pulls the quilt up over them and puts his arm round him.

“I feel better now. What were you saying about my guitar?” Carl said, as if there was any chance of Peter remembering what they’d been talking to before they’d had sex.

 “I...” Pete said, trying desperately to remember what he’d been thinking before.

Carl just grinned at him and kissed him, Pete felt his heart flip and then felt vaguely panicked that Carl was now making his heart skip on a regular basis.

 “I play in a band, you should come see me.”

Carl was in a band? That wasn’t fair, he was running laps around Pete with his awesome life. 

 “It’s only amateur stuff, but it’d be cool if you could come.”

“When are you playing?”

“Next weekend, I’d like you to come...I think Amy’s going so you could hang out with her.”

“Yeah...cool.” Pete nodded, wondering how he was going to cope seeing Carl attached to a guitar.

“What do you play?”

“Crap, mostly, but it’s a good laugh.”

“Cool.” Pete nodded.

“I actually went to a lecture today.”

“I’m shocked. What was it on?”   
Carl tried to remember. “Crap, mostly.” He laughed, trying to forget the moment afterwards and his close to panic attack in the bathroom. He knew that was probably why he’d brought it up, he wasn’t really one for talking about things like that, or admitting he felt anything else but constantly self assured. But really he wanted someone to talk it through with. He felt like he could talk to him, but...he wasn’t sure.

He knew Pete liked him, but then he knew Pete still thought of him as someone a thousand times cooler than himself. Self assured and reasonably happy with his cool uni life, drinking with his friends and playing with a band. He kind of liked the fact that Pete looked up to him so much like that, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to give that up just yet. Have that conversation and have them both be on even footing, shattering his image as his older sister’s cool good looking friend...

 “Carl?” Pete asked as he noticed Carl’s eyes glazing over slightly.

“Sorry,” Carl shook his head, “Spaced out. Do you want to watch a film?”

“Yeah sure.”

Pete wondered what he’d been thinking about as Carl brought over his crappy tv and put in an equally crappy movie. He watched Carl reach under the bed for the bottles of beer he knew were under there somewhere and picked them up along with the can opener off his shelf. Pete couldn’t help but think this must be somewhere Carl spent a lot of time, to have everything so close to hand.

He handed Pete his opened bottle.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers” Pete said back, smiling to himself as Carl shuffled down in the bed slightly and turned round to rest his head on Pete’s chest. Pete tried to concentrate on the film and not let in the barrage of questions that seemed very insistent to enter his mind. He took a few swigs of his beer, thinking that that might significantly help. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Peter’s head was spinning slightly, he was rapidly discovering that he really couldn’t keep up with Carl...in any sense. But definitely not where whiskey was involved. He could see Carl smirking at him over the table in the shitty little pub they seemed to have found themselves. He could clearly see the drink was going to his head and was daring him to say so and let Carl spend the rest of the night calling him a lightweight. Carl had taken him out promising to show him London, they’re ended up in this pub, about 50 yards from his halls because Carl had realised he couldn’t quite afford the tube into town, but could somehow afford several rounds of drinks. London confused Peter.

 Carl swirled the last of his whiskey round and put it down on the table, Pete heard the ice clink together and looked at his own drink. The ice had all practically melted in the time he’d been nursing it. He was starting to think that pretending Carl’s favourite drink was also his own may have been a slight mistake.

“You okay, Peter?”

“Hmm?” Pete just looked at him and smiled slightly dopily at him.

“You gonna drink that?” Carl was smirking at him again.

“Yes!” Pete said defensively and proceeded to pick it up and drink it all in one. His stomach made a rather protesting noise but Pete mentally told it to be quiet.

“Careful now...don’t think I’m carrying you back.”

“Not even the block back to your flat? You musn’t love me very much...” Pete couldn’t believe that just came out of his mouth. Carl just grinned at him.

“Maybe back to the flat, not up the stairs though.”

“Would you just leave me there at the bottom?”

“I’d close the door?”

“Would you get me a blanket?”

“I don’t think I have one.”

“I guess I’ll just have to be cold then.”

Carl just laughed. “Do you want a fag?”

“Yeah go on...” Pete stood up and followed Carl out the door, finding it significantly more of a challenge than it usually was.

Carl offered him his fag packet and Pete took one, leaning up against the wall for some support. He looked out over the cold winter night, looking at the frost sparkling on the ground in the yellow street light and thinking that he didn’t feel half as cold as he should.

Carl leant up and lit Pete’s fag for him, Pete sucked it in, thinking it might sober him up slightly. It didn’t occur to him that the last time he smoked was the last time he saw Carl, which was a while ago now. He felt himself going slightly dizzy.

“’s bloody freezing out here, Peter, why didn’t we just stay in and drink at the flat?”

“You were gonna show me London...” Pete slurred.

Carl laughed and looked at the dodgy street they were standing in, all the terraced houses had of interest were a few boarded up windows and some wheely bins that had been kicked over.

“Well welcome to fucking London...” he laughed to himself and took another drag of his fag. Pete found himself watching him as he leant back on the wall, slightly hypnotised by the repetitive movement of Carl’s hand to his lips as he looked out across the London street, frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Pete asked, brushing a strand of hair out of Carl’s face that was obscuring his view.

Instead of just smiling and shaking it off like Carl usually did when he asked him something like that Carl just continued to frown.

“Dunno...just London really. I always thought it’d be some magical city where I could do whatever I wanted...’s just a fucking rip off really...”

Pete did not know what the fuck had come over him but he started singing to him under his breath.

 “This city desert makes you feel so cold, it’s got, so many people but it’s got no soul, and it’s taken you so long, to find out you were wrong when you thought it held everything.”

Carl frowned. “What’s that?”

Pete laughed, feeling himself swaying slightly. “How don’t you know that song? ‘s baker street...call yourself a bloody musician.”

“I never went that far...” Carl laughed slightly. “You’ve got a beautiful voice, Peter.”

Pete felt a slight shiver go down his spine.

“Not really...”

“Sing better than the bloke in our fucking mess of a band...”

“Why don’t you sing?”

Carl frowned. “Don’t like people looking at me.”

Pete gave him a disbelieving look.

“I don’t! Makes me feel all clammy...”

“I like looking at you...” Peter said to him dopily, mentally vowing to himself to never drink again in Carl’s presence.

Carl laughed at him. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not as drunk as you.”

“Doesn’t take much...” Pete laughed.

Carl gave him a look Pete couldn’t really read but dropped his fag and crushed it with the heel of his boot. Pete realised his let his burn all the way to the end and dropped his as well and copied him.

Carl suddenly pushed him back on the wall and started kissing him. Pete thought he really should start giving him some sort of warning, giving that every time he did it made him feel like he was going to slide down a wall. Still, Pete was of the opinion that they didn’t spend nearly enough time kissing, and was all for more.

He moaned as Carl kissed him harder. Pete wished he wasn’t as drunk he was, it felt like Carl was kissing him harder, desperately, like he deeply needed something from Pete other than the obvious for a change. Pete wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted so he just tried to match his kisses, holding him tight up against him. As Carl showed no signs of stopping Pete felt a strange yearning in his chest that terrified him slightly.

Eventually Carl pulled back but didn’t release his tight grip on Pete’s waist but just laid his head on his chest. Pete held him tight, trying to stop the world spinning for just a moment so he could make some sense out of the situation and how Carl was acting. Pete wasn’t sure quite how long they stood there like that but eventually Carl pulled his head up and gave Pete a weak smile, a sad and worn out look in his eyes that made Pete pull Carl right back up against him.

“Come on, let’s go get another drink,” Carl mumbled and pulled away from him and walked away from him into the pub. Pete frowned but followed him, it was his round so Pete walked up to the bar, Carl put his hand on his back.

“Just going to the loo, yeah?”

Pete nodded, handing over his money to the barman, realised he’d just ordered the same whiskey he’d just decided he hated. He decided maybe he didn’t care anymore and carried them over to their table that had been already cleared and wiped due to the length of time they’d spent outside.

Carl joined him eventually, looking slightly more bright eyed, smirking up at Pete again.

“Really, Peter, you going to put yourself through another one of those?”

Pete shrugged and smiled at him, wondering if they were discuss at all what just happened outside. Not really entirely sure if anything had happened outside.

“Well maybe it’s an acquired taste.”

The rest of the night seemed to descend into a blur of drinks he didn’t like and handing his money across the counter as Carl had run out of money, that and Carl’s frequent trips to the bathroom that Pete was just choosing to ignore.

He didn’t remember them deciding to leave, only that suddenly they were outside, then they were inside and Carl was pushing him back onto the bed.

“Carl...I’m fucked...I don’t know if I can move let a-fucking-lone...”

Carl just put his fingers on his lips and started pulling off his clothes. Pete could tell even in his drunken state that Carl seemed more frantic that usual, his hands were flying all over him, his mouth biting down hard every time he exposed another piece of Peter’s pale skin.

“Carl...slow down...my heads fucking spinning...”

Carl just shh-ed him again and when Pete tried to grab him and hold him still for a second he found his arms tied to the bed, he closed his eyes and tried to make his mind focus, crying out as he felt Carl’s mouth slide down his cock, sucking him off hard. He moaned and twisted his arms but Carl was having none of it and just sucked harder, before moving down and starting to fuck him with his tongue.

“Jesus Carl...what you tryin’ to fuckin’ do to me?” He whined, gasping as he felt Carl push his fingers inside him.

“I’m tryin’ to fuck you if you’d just keep bloody still...”

“Fucksake...” Pete muttered under his breath as Carl just fucked him harder with his fingers, pushing his fingers down hard on his prostate, making him squeal. Pete knew he found it hard to be quiet at the best of times, with all the alcohol he’d poured down his throat he knew he had no chance.

“Oh Peter I like this...” Carl laughed at him. “It’s so much more fun when you’re making this much noise...anyone ever tell you that you moan like a whore?”

“Just you...repeatedly...” Pete just about managed.

Carl laughed and pushed Pete’s legs up, the only warning he got before he pushed himself balls deep inside him, a grin spreading across his face. Pete cried out again, not doing much to disprove Carl’s theory.

“Hey Peter...you want some coke...?”

“Um...” Pete wasn’t entirely sure he wanted anything but Carl to move a bit fucking faster but Carl was reaching up to his shelf, with surprising ease considering he was completely buried inside him at the same time.

Pete watched Carl’s face as he arrange a neat line on Pete’s chest with the speed of an obvious expert and leant down and snorted it off his chest. Pete blinked, thinking he was really not cool enough for this kind of thing to be happening to him. The next thing he knew Carl had a line on his finger and lifted it up to him, Pete really didn’t feel like he could say no. He had a vague flashback of them going on about peer pressure at school, they didn’t really explain that it might happen when the person who was offering it you happened to be a very fucking sexy boy that was currently smirking at you and teasing you with the head of his cock with the lightest strokes and _just there_....Pete leant down and did it, feeling no different at first. Just moaning as Carl started to move inside him.

When he looked back he wasn’t really sure where the alcohol ended and the coke finished but he was feeling decidedly off his head as Carl started to fuck him. He thought Carl could be a little rough at the best of times, but now he was fucking him like a man possessed. He was sure he was going to have scars where Carl’s nails had embedded themselves in his shoulders. He watched as Carl fucked him, hearing his own moans but he paid more attention to watching Carl’s face as he cried out with every move, his hair a ragged mess on his head, bouncing in his eyes, his mouth slightly open, his chewed red lips quivering as he fucked him.

Eventually Carl’s stamina got the better of him and he started pulling at his arms, whining at him, looking up at him with big eyes. He was so fucking close he was practically writhing on his sheets. Carl had resorted to pinning his hips down with his hands to keep him still.

“Carl...” he moaned when it was obvious Carl was far too preoccupied with his own pleasure to notice the look Pete was giving him.

“What?”

“Please...Carl...I need to...”

“But I’m having fun...aren’t you?”

“Not sure...that’s quite...the word...I’d choose...” Pete got out eventually. Carl just grinned at him but took pity on him and started properly getting himself off. Pete cried out as his thrusts got harder, as he started moving faster Pete waited...and waited some more.

“Carl...seriously...” Pete tried. But it felt almost different somehow, usually by this point Pete would be nearly screaming at Carl to let him have his release, fairly convinced if he drove him any higher he’d die...now he was so fucked he could feel his body relaxing, taking it, letting Carl taking him even higher.

“Oh...fuck...” Pete gasped as Carl kept his pace, refusing to give him even a second to get his breath back. Pete felt dizzy, Carl was turning into a blur above him, the room was spinning, he couldn’t even form the words anymore to yell at him... he shrieked as Carl moved his hands round as he started to come inside him, Pete wasn’t sure but he thought he might be screaming in some far off place where physical things still existed and the wasn’t just him, and this boy, and this blinding orgasm he was having. He whimpered as Carl continued as he stroked his cock, shuddering as he dragged out his orgasm far longer than Pete had ever thought possible.

Eventually the room stopped spinning quite as much and he opened his eyes. Carl was leaning on his chest and smirking at him. Pete just blinked at him.

“Fuck.”

Carl grinned at him. Pete felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

                                                                        *

He jumped as he jolted awake, looking round frantically for a second before he realised where he was.

Carl was sitting at his desk in his boxers with his feet up, reading a book, he looked over in amusement as Pete started awake.

“Morning.”

Pete groaned as he tried to move and felt his head start spinning again, he turned and buried his head in Carl’s pillow.

He heard Carl walk out the room but couldn’t quite bring himself to lift his head. He felt himself dozing off slightly when he felt Carl’s hand on his back.

“Tea, paracetamol.”

Pete turned over in surprise and sat up.

“Thanks.”

“’s all right...probably my fault you got so fucked in the first place.” He decided that Carl looked guilty enough that he wouldn’t have to really press the matter.

“You don’t say.”

Carl just gave him a guilty smile and sat on the end of the bed, sipping on his own tea.

“I just get a little carried away sometimes.”

Pete craned his neck to look at the marks on his shoulders. “Mmm...”

“Sorry,” Carl said, picking up Pete’s hand and locking their fingers together

“’s all right.”

The sat quietly for a while, sipping their drinks.

“Carl...” Pete was aware he was about to say something potentially stupid, but with the strange fake clarity hangovers seemed to give him he felt it had to be asked.

“Hmm?”

“You seeing anyone else?“

Carl shook his head. “No.” Carl didn’t rush to deny it, didn’t feel the need to tell him how much he wasn’t seeing anyone else, no, of course not, I’d never, how could you say that...it made Pete believe him this time.

“Would you?”

The pause that meant Carl was thinking about it made Pete’s stomach twist.

“Not if you didn’t want me to.”

Pete frowned, thinking that wasn’t really an answer.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

Pete frowned, thinking that still wasn’t the answer he wanted. Carl raised his eyebrows at him, waiting for him to say something.

“But...would you want to?”

Carl shrugged. “Dunno. Does it matter, as long as I wouldn’t?”

“Yeah...”

Carl sighed and thought about it some more, looking down into his tea.

“I don’t think I’d want to.”

“For now?” Pete asked with a slightly bitter tone in his voice. Pete didn’t know where that had even came from. They shouldn’t be having this conversation now, Pete knew he was always grouchy when he was hungover.

Carl’s eyes snapped up to him. “That’s not fair.”

Pete just shrugged and crossed his arms, well aware he was probably being irrational and jealous.

“Could you promise me you’d never see anyone you’d rather have than me?”

“Yes!”

“You’re young Peter...”

For some reason this made Peter quite irrationally angry.

“I’m more bloody mature than you...”

“Oh?” Carl just laughed at him, a slightly nasty look in his eyes. How had they ended up fighting? He really didn’t mean the conversation to go this way. “It’s mature is it, to fuck people you’ve only know for about three hours? With someone you know quite blatantly to be a slag and a twat? To go out and get ridiculously off your face just cos you’re trying to impress someone you fancy?”

“I didn’t...” Pete felt like Carl had smacked him in the face.

“To really think you could change someone like that? Expect them to change overnight just for you?”

Pete looked at Carl hard. Eventually his expression softened.

“Sorry.”

“I never said I thought I could...”

“But you want to...”  

“If by change you mean keep seeing you and fucking you and having you all to myself then I guess yes. I wasn’t aware that was such a fucking crime...”

“It’s not...I want that too...”

“Then what’s your fucking problem?”

Carl thought that was actually quite a good question.

“I just...”

“Do you like me Carl?”

“Course I do, you prat...”

“Carl I’m just...we’ve been doing this a while now and I know if we do this much longer I’m going to start really liking you...”

“So?”

“So it’s gonna rip me to fucking pieces if I really start liking you and I find you with someone else...”

“I’d never do that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Carl?”

“What?”

“Are we together?”

“Yes, okay” Carl sighed exasperated, “Is that all you wanted to hear? Jesus Peter if you wanted to ask me out I could think of less long winded fucking ways of doing it.”

Peter smiled slightly at him, thinking that would probably do for now.

“Do you like me?”

“Yes Peter...” Carl said in a bored voice though he was smiling at him again now.

“Do you really like me?”

“Yes! Peter fucks sake shut up...”

Carl took Pete’s drink off him and put it down on the side, pulling him back down onto the bed and lying on top of him, his hands already moving down to his cock. Pete grabbed his wrist.

“What?!” Carl asked, apparently a bit too wound up by Pete’s infuriating behaviour.

“I want a hug.”

“What?”

“Cuddle me, idiot...”

Carl sighed and wrapped his arms round him and nuzzled into his neck. Pete smiled and held him back tight for a few moments.

“Carl?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you fuck me really slow...”

“Do I have too?” Carl sighed.

“Please?”

Carl rolled his eyes. “You’re such a fucking woman.”

Pete gave him his best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, whatever. Suppose I may have been a tad bit rough with you last night...”

Pete laughed. “Just a fucking bit...”

Carl smiled apologetically at him and kissed him slowly, taking his time coaxing open his mouth, tracing his fingers lightly over his chest and down, moving down and taking his cock in his mouth, sucking him off beautifully slowly. He knew he’d told him to do it, but he’d like to think that Carl was cherishing him, taking his time as he devoured him. His fingers were gentle this time as they pushed inside him as he moved his mouth slowly up and down on his cock.

“Oh Carl...” Pete moaned. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Carl was capable of this, more that he didn’t realise he’d be so good at it. He stayed there for so long, staying as slow as he’d promised, spoiling him...Pete thought he’d transcended into heaven.

Eventually Carl stopped and moved over him, pushing inside him and kissing him, kissing him so lovingly, almost caressing his mouth. Pete whimpered. Carl moved slowly, moving his kisses over his neck, his shoulders and his chest, so lovingly it was making Peter melt. Pete ran his hands over his back and his sides, cherishingly this, admitting to himself it was probably the only time he was going to get it.

He felt himself getting closer, Carl’s strokes were still hard, regardless of their speed, still deliberately hitting his prostate and making him writhe underneath him.

“Yes...Carl...yes...touch me...fuck...please...”

Carl obediently moved his hands on his cock and Pete cried out, grabbing Carl’s hips and pulling him exactly where he wanted him.

“Oh...oh...oh...” he sighed out as he came, shuddering under him and pulling Carl down hard on top of him. He let the inevitable warm glow wash over him before he looked up to Carl who seemed to be smiling down on him with something very close to affection.

“What do you want?”

Carl just smiled at him, obviously nowhere near close.

“Come on, you spoiled me I’ll spoil you, what do you want?”

Carl thought for a moment then flipped them over and moved Pete’s head inbetween his legs. Pete smiled and started teasing him with his hands first, Carl’s hands were very quickly in his hair, telling him no, pushing him down. Pete just laughed slightly and moved his mouth down, letting him move his head as he liked, sucking him off with relish.

“Peter...Peter...Peter...” Pete smiled, thinking orgasms aside there was really nothing more satisfying than hearing his name on the boys lips. His boys lips, he mentally corrected himself.

He started to shake a Pete sucked harder, feeling Carl’s hands grabbing at his hair.

“Oh...Peter, fuck yes...” Carl cried out as he came in his mouth, Pete swallowed and smirked to himself, moving back up to lie on top of him, he closed his eyes, thinking the morning/afternoon had already been far too exhausting.

                                                                        *

Carl walked him to the station, they hovered awkwardly by the ticket barriers.

“You coming up for my gig yeah?”

“Yeah, course.”

“Good,” Carl smiled at him. The announcement for his train came over the tanoid and they embraced, Pete went to go but Carl grabbed him back and kissed him hard, trying to reaffirm their earlier conversation. Pete smiled at him and blushed slightly, really not being used to being kissed in public, by boys imperticular.

                                                                        *

“Amy I need to ask you something. And you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“I’m not giving you any sex tips little brother...” Amy laughed down the phone. She was sitting back at the tiny desk in her room, feet up on the bed and playing with the phone chord with her spare hand. Carl looked up from where he was sitting on her floor messing around with his guitar, he gave her a startled look.

She smirked at him and clicked the phone onto speaker phone. Carl shook his head at her but she just grinned.

Pete rolled his eyes as he sat down on his bed, phone in one hand and book in the other.

“No, you know we’re going to see Carl’s band...”

“They’re pretty fucking awful.”

Carl flicked his fingers up at her, his other hand still on the guitar, silencing the strings. He knew he should say something to alert Peter of his presence, Pete was going to say something and embarrass himself, and letting him do that was just cruel. His curiosity got the better of him though. That and his craving to keep the upper hand, he knew he was miles ahead in Pete’s mind at the moment, but he was sure he’d catch up with him pretty quickly.

“Yeah, but, you know we’re going to see them?”

“Yes...” she said impatiently, wondering what he was getting at.

“What am I supposed to wear?”

Carl bit his tongue to stop himself from laughing, or making any noise at all for that matter.

“Well I don’t think you should wear your school uniform this time...”

Carl’s eyes widened. He forgot that he’d mentioned that to her when she’d seen his tie in his room.

“What?”

Amy just laughed. “Did you know he’s keeping it tied round his bed post as a memento?”

The sound of Pete spluttering and searching for something to say filled the room.

Carl threw a pillow at her and she squealed.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, just thought I saw a spider...”

“So, seriously sis, what the fuck am I supposed to wear?”

Amy raised her eyebrows at Carl for his input but he just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Well...it depends what kind of look your going for.”

“What?”

“Well do you want to impress him?”

“Yeah...obviously.”

Carl cringed on Peter’s behalf, it was too late to say anything now though, and if he walked out he was sure it’d make so much noise that Peter would catch on.

“Well...wear something tight then,” she laughed.

“I’m not a girl!”

“I don’t mean like a dress you idiot, wear some skinny jeans, and some leather...”

“You mean dress like him?”

“Yeah, doesn’t do him any harm does it.”

“It won’t look the same on me though...”

“What do you mean?”

Pete was quite on the other end of the phone.

“Are you saying it only looks good on him because he’s got a nice arse?”

“Well. Yes.” Pete said. Carl grinned.

“What else do you like about him?”

“What?”

“Go on tell me. I mean I just don’t get it, all my friends are always falling all over him and I just don’t find him that attractive. What is it about him that attracts you?”

Carl shook his head at her in despair. She was cruel. Mind you, making her listen to him making her little brother scream all night was probably also quite cruel.

“I thought you didn’t want to know about that...”

“I don’t want to hear you screaming the fucking place down every night, no, but I’d love to know what you see in him.”

“Are you kidding? He’s gorgeous. He’s got a gorgeous arse, amazing arms, his hairs perfect and eyes are stunning and he’s got the most disarming smile...he just smiles at me and it makes me melt...it’s ridiculous Amy, I didn’t think people existed in real life that were actually that attractive.”

“Mmm...” Amy said, clearly trying to contain her laughter. “So, I mean, is he actually that good in bed or were you just faking?”

“Amy why are you even asking me that, you said you didn’t want to know.”

“Well I’m trying to be more understanding of your relationship Peter, you know we’ve never had any secrets from each other. I told you all about when I slept with Mike...”

Peter sighed. “You’re just gonna get grossed out again.”

“I won’t I promise.”

“Fine.”

“So were you faking?”

“God no.”

“Not even exaggerating slightly?”

“No! God Amy, he’s like some sort of fucking mind reader it’s like he knows exactly what I want, exactly what to do, I think it’s actually a sin to be that good in bed. I think he could make me do anything he wanted. “

“So you’re just with him for the sex then?”

“I never said that! It’s not like that Ams...I mean he’s amazing in bed but...”

“But you really like him?”

“...yeah.”

“Does he give you goosebumps and butterflies...the whole deal?”

“....yeah.” Pete said reluctantly. He didn’t think he’d ever share this with anyone else, but he’d always been able to talk to her about anything. Even if she could be a complete brat sometimes.

Carl hated to admit it, but he was now sitting on the floor watching the receiver in Amy’s hand intently. He knew it was wrong, he knew he should stop him, but he wanted, needed to know exactly what he felt.

“I remember when I was first with Mike it was like that. Do you think about him all the time?”

“Yeah...I can’t concentrate on anything these days.”

“Do you think you’re in love with him?”

Carl’s heart felt like it was about to stop.

“...I don’t know...it’s early isn’t it...but it...certainly feels like that.”

“Carl can never concentrate on anything either these days can you, Carl?”

Carl’s mouth dropped open and he flushed red, she wouldn’t do this. God she couldn’t do this to him.

Pete was silent on the other end of the phone for a minute. Carl’s eyes were wide, desperate for her to say something, anything, to make him think she was kidding.

“You’re winding me up.”

“You should see his face, Peter, he’s gone _so_ red.” She gave him a satisfied smile. “I guess it’s not quite chopping your cock of Carl, but it’ll have to do. Did you really think I was going to just let you get away with that?”

Carl knew he should probably stay silent, feign ignorance. But Pete would ask him, and he was feeling so guilty right now he knew he wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Peter...” he said quietly.

“You have to come closer to the phone idiot,” Amy sighed at him.

He stood up, suddenly furious with her.

“Don’t get mad at me Carl, no one made you sit there and be quiet the entire time, you had your chance.”

He snatched the phone off her and switched it back to normal

“Peter...Amy get out!” he yelled at her. She just laughed and walked out into the kitchen.

“Peter...” he was pretty sure he was going to have to find something else to say instead of repeating his name soon, but his mind was failing.

“What?” Pete’s voice was quiet on the other end of the phone.

“I’m sorry...” it seemed like the only thing he could really say.

Pete was quiet again for a few moments. He knew he thought Carl was too good for him, and at the back of his mind thought he was just leading him on. For all his lack of self esteem he could still feel himself getting very angry.

“Peter?”

“You really are just what everyone says aren’t you?”

Oh god he was mad at him, Carl felt his stomach twist.

“You just sat there and listened to me pouring my fucking heart out...”

“I didn’t know you were going to...then I didn’t know what to say I...”

“So you just sat there and listened?”

“Well...I...”

“What? You wanted to hear it? Enlarge your already ridiculously sized ego?”

“No, Peter...it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like, Carlos?”

Carl closed his eyes. He knew this was it. If he didn’t save this now Pete was never going to come up here and see him again, even for all the good sex in the world, and the thought made him want to be violently sick. He knew what Pete wanted to hear. Had known he’d wanted him to say it when they’d been talking last week. He’d only not really said it out of stubbornness, really.

“Peter I love you.” He blurted it out without properly considering what he was saying, what the implications were. He just knew he needed to keep him, more than anything else, and he was fairly sure this was the only way to do it.

“What?”

Carl closed his eyes, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to make him say it again.

“You heard me, didn’t you?”

“You can’t just say that Carl and think it’s gonna make it okay.”

“I’m not just saying it...”

“Really? So if I rang round all your one night stands and asked them? Not sure if my phone bill would stretch that long though.”

Ouch. Carl cringed. He was quiet for a while, thinking. Pete was mad, and he had every right to be so. From his point of view Carl had done a completely twatish thing. To someone he’d spent the weekend telling that he really cared about them and that he wasn’t going to play any games with them...well he knew it didn’t look good.

He knew his charms would only last so long, Peter wasn’t completely spineless. He’d proved that last weekend at least. He wasn’t going to let him say that to him and then treat him like this. Maybe he should have just kept it casual...if he’d never had said all that then Peter wouldn’t have felt so betrayed. Maybe if Peter was here, and he could put his arm round him, look at him properly and making him see he was sorry. That wasn’t really an option though.

“Peter...” Carl tried again.

“What?” Pete snapped. 

There was one thing left to try. Short of jumping on the train and going round to his house, which wasn’t much of an option as he was, as usual, skint.

“I just. The only reason I didn’t say anything was because I wanted to know what you really thought.”

Pete just gave him a dismissive laugh. “Fuck off Carl...”

“No, Peter, come on. I mean it. You know I care about you...”

“Bullshit.”

“No, I swear...I...look. You’re the first person I’ve ever felt like this about, and it’s scary as hell, and I just wanted to know you felt the same.”

“I told you I did...”

“I know but...”

“You didn’t trust me?”

“No...” yes. That was exactly it. Fuck. Pete was too bloody clever for his own good.

“Yes.”

Carl sighed. “Yes, okay. Yes. I didn’t trust you and I wanted to know for sure cos I didn’t want to get hurt, okay?”

Pete was quite again on the end of the phone and eventually sighed.

“You could have just asked.”

“I know.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” Carl sighed. He knew it was going to take significantly more than that to win him over.

“Peter.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know why I think you’re so pretty?”

He practically heard Pete roll his eyes on the other end of the line.

“Flattery isn’t going to win you this one...”

“Shut up okay. You’re mad because you spilled out your heart and I heard it. Now you can shut up and listen to me pour out mine. And then we’re even. Right?”

“That is not the same thing at all.”

“Why?!”

“Because you know I’m listening!”

“Whatever Peter, shut up and listen. You think I’m so fucking confident? I’m not. I know I’m older than you, but you’re clever than I ever fucking will be. So what, I can talk people into my bed like it’s some kind of gift? Do you have any idea how cold I have to be to do that? I thought it was ridiculous, the idea of people spending their lives together, I don’t trust anyone, and no okay I don’t trust you either. But...I really like you. And I’m trying okay. You think I’m so cool and I could never really like anyone like you but...Peter...my sisters completely right. I hate uni, I hate everything about it, I’m never going to be an actor, I’m never going to be any good at it so why bother...”

“Carl you’re not...”

“Peter shut up. I’m never going to be any good, which means I’ll be a teacher. And the idea of that disgusts me so much that I think I’d much rather get fucked off my face and live the rest of my life under a fucking bridge doing cheap coke and drinking cheap cider and shagging my way round to world to be able to rub two fucking pennies together because that’s apparently all I’m good at...apparently all I’m fucking known for...”

“Carl that’s not...”

“Peter shut up. Do you think that’s the kind of outlook I want to have? Do you think that makes me feel great about myself? Do you think I feel like some kind of fucking sex god? You think cos I’m in some shitty band I’m a rock star? Peter...you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in so long...I know cos when you look at me you don’t just think I’m a waste of space, a waste of fucking space...”

“Carl no one thinks...”

“And I look at you Peter and I see someone with brains. Peter if you set your mind to it you could do anything you fucking wanted. I know you don’t think so...but that’s just cos you don’t see what I see when I look at you. Okay you’re shy, I don’t care, I like it Peter, it’s cute. Have you never heard of being coy? It’s a good thing. All it makes me want to do is wrap my arms round and you and not let the world anywhere near you...I don’t want to let anything spoil you. You’ve got the most slender hands...I don’t just meant it like that. And those eyes Peter, I feel like I could drown in them, you could look at me with those big eyes Peter and I’d give you the fucking world if I could.”

“I...”

“And when we’re together Peter, when we fuck...”

Peter felt himself blush

“It feels different...it feel like it actually means something to me, I love the sight of you falling apart in my arms Peter, of you giving yourself completely to me...But I’m not all you think I am, Peter, I’ve got nothing to give you...” he trailed off at the sight of Amy standing in the door.

It was clear from her raised eyebrows that she’d heard everything he’d said. He glared at her.

“You don’t need to give me anything Carl...”

They were both quiet for a while.

Eventually Carl realised he really had run out of things to say, and Peter didn’t sound mad anymore. He thought he’d try his luck.

“Peter, please come up this weekend. Please.”

Pete sighed. “Okay...but Carl...”

“What?”

Pete laughed slightly in spite of himself. “I’ve got nothing to wear.”

                                                                        *

Carl managed to end the conversation on a good note and replaced the receiver down calmly, before whipping round and pointing his finger at Amy.

“You! If you weren’t a girl I’d smack you!”

“Please, Carl, like you’ve ever smacked anyone,” she rolled her eyes and walked back into her room, carrying two cups of tea and sitting back down at her desk as if nothing had every happened. “Fucking pansy.”

“I have!”

“Course you have,” she smiled patronisingly at him and passed him his cup of tea.

“You can’t just....” Carl spluttered.

“What?” she asked dryly. “I told you I’d fuck you over if you fucked my brother. We’re even now.”

“You’re a psycho,” Carl told her, taking the tea nonetheless.

“It’s why we get on so well.”

“Amy! You could have ruined everything!”

“Oh please, he thinks the sun shines out of your arse...and I guess he’d know.” She sniggered to herself.

“But...”

“Carl he was never going to leave you. He’s obsessed with you. He thinks you’re god’s fucking gift, mr rockstar, mr Camden, mr sex god...He would have sulked for a few weeks and come crawling back.”

“That is not what he thinks.”

“That’s exactly what he thinks.”

“But I told him...”

“You told him you don’t think you’re god’s fucking gift. And now he just thinks even more of you because you admitted you actually have real feelings like a real person. And he knows you really care about him now after you spilt your heart out.”

She rendered him speechless.

“But...I thought you were trying to fuck me over?”

“However, you did nearly give yourself a heart attack, you went several shades of red, white and purple...and that was amusing enough for me.”

Carl thought about this for several minutes.

“My band isn’t shitty.”

“Ha.”




 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Pete walked up to his sister in the station and scowled at her.

“I cannot believe you would do that to me.”

“I cannot believe you’d fuck one of my best friends in the next room, welcome to life.” She beamed at him and looped her arm through his. “Is that really what you’re wearing?” She flicked her eyes up and down him critically.

Pete was wearing blue skinny jeans, his worn down converse, a black polo top and a brown cord blazer. Despite his best efforts he felt what little self confidence he had disappear.

“I hate you.”

She just laughed. “Oh little brother. You look nice, really.”

“Shut up,” he muttered as they pushed their way onto the tube. She just laughed again, then started talking about uni and music and friends he’d never heard of so he tuned out.

“Peter!”

“What?”

“You’re not listening to me!” she chided him, lightly smacking him on the arm as they walked out the station into the cold evening air.

“I was.”

“What was I saying?”

“You were insulting my dress sense?”

“No.”

“You were implying Carl was a slag?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay I wasn’t listening.”

“I said, Paul’s coming tonight.”

“Who’s Paul?”

“ _Peter_! Paul’s my new boyfriend, it’s the first time we’re going out together in a group.”

“Oh, right. Is he cute?”

“ _Peter!_ ” she shrieked, hitting him on the arm again.

“You’re just jealous because my boyfriend’s hotter than your boyfriend.”

“Oh please, just cos I don’t want to ride the university bicycle like everyone else...”

“You know there’s probably something wrong with you if you’re the only one he didn’t sleep with.”

“There’s probably something wrong with you, you should get tested.”

“Ha fucking ha, go fuck yourself.”

 Amy just gave him her best fake smile.

“Now, I’m going to introduce you to my friends again. This time, try not to shag one of them Peter,” she sighed in a bored tone.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you,” she smiled sweetly as they arrived at the door and Amy opened it for him. “Right, dump your stuff and we’ll get going.”

Peter looked at her in apparent confusion. “Oh, you’re going out wearing that?”

She flicked her fingers up at him and he just grinned at her, running up the stairs and throwing his stuff in Carl’s room. He quickly stopped to check his appearance in Carl’s mirror, concluding as he usually did that he was far too tall. And that Carl’s mirror was absolutely filthy.

Peter smiled politely as they met up with Amy’s friends. Peter realised they were all looking at him slightly differently now, he noted that Claire was among them, and had probably told them everything she’d seen when she walked in on them to find her phone. Either that or they probably lived on the floor above. Or really anywhere in the near area considering what Carl usually did to him. Pete cringed.

He ended up walking next to his sister, a position he wouldn’t normally take willingly but desperate times and awkward conversation called for desperate measures. They walked into the dark pub, it was fairly big, there were a lot of bands on that night, one was playing as they walked in that wasn’t exactly to Pete’s tastes. All of Amy’s friends seemed to disappear into the crowd as they walked in, but Amy walked with him to the bar and brought them both a drink.

They were about ten minutes into the “music” the band were playing when a boy walked over to them that Pete thought was possibly the most dull looking bloke he’d ever seen in his life.

“Paul!”

Oh god. Really? Pete tried to keep his face blank.

“Hi Amy, you look really beautiful.” He pecked her on the cheek. “I brought you this.” He handed her a single rose and Pete was nearly sick over the both of them.

“Aww! That’s so sweet, thank you!”

“Do you want to come and meet my friends?” he asked her.

“Oh yeah cool,” she smiled and nodded, not even acknowledging the presence of her brother before she swanned off to meet Joe Average’s friends. Pete sighed and leant back against one of the pillars making up the bar. The bar tender looked at him dubiously. He downed his drink defiantly.

“How old are you son?”

Pete rolled his eyes and showed him his ID, the man shrugged and went back to serving his customers. He wondered if he’d ever felt more awkward in his life, wished he could just melt into the background till Carl’s band were on so he didn’t have to stand here looking like he had no friends. He had unpleasant flashbacks of being 12 on the playground on the first day of secondary school...Pete noticed Amy had left her drink there and downed it spitefully. It was so sweet he nearly gagged on it but forced it down anyway.

He jumped as he felt an arm round his waist and whipped round to see Carl grinning at him.

“H...” Pete started before Carl pushed him back into the bar and kissed him. Eventually Carl decided to pull back and let him breathe.

“Oh my god are you drinking Malibu?” Carl pulled a face at the sweet taste on his tongue.

“No...I mean yes...I...it’s Amy’s.” Pete got there eventually and Carl smiled at him.

“Where is she?”

“Oh...she walked off..”

“Yeah she does that.”

“She went to go meet Paul’s friends...”

 Carl laughed and Pete thought the disgust must have shown on his face.

“Oh...yes...Paul.” Carl wrinkled his nose. “Oh, right, I am so sorry.” Carl threw his arms round him and squeezed him so tight Pete could barely breathe. He let him go just as abruptly.

“Do you wanna go sit down for a bit, we’re not on for a while and this band isn’t exactly thrilling the life out of me...”

Pete laughed. “Me neither.” He happily followed him, realising Carl was leading him backstage and looked around curiously. It didn’t look very exciting, the walls sported black peeling off paint, the floors lino and the doors were cheap wood with graffiti carved on every inch of them.

“You can meet the boys.”

Pete gave him a terrified look.

“What?” Carl laughed.

“I’m not...really good with people...”

“No?” Carl asked, smiling slightly, like Pete had made this fairly obvious to him already.

“No...”

“It’s okay,” Carl tightened his arm round his waist. “I’ll look after you.”

Pete wanted to tell him that he really didn’t need babysitting, but he knew that if Carl walked off at any point and left him with these people who were obviously in a band and much cooler than he was he might die.

“Here we are...” They reached the end of the strip lighted corridor and Carl put his hand on the door. “Oh by the way, I wouldn’t mention that you’re not at uni...or like in school. They might be a bit weird about it.”

Pete just nodded. Carl pushed the open and Pete nearly choked at the amount of smoke coming out of such a small room.

“Carlos! We thought you’d deserted us...”

“Hey, sorry, guys this is my mate Pete.” Pete bristled slightly at this, but okay, maybe his friends didn’t all need to know. He wasn’t really sure if he was ready to be introduced to anyone as openly gay let alone someone’s boyfriend but still....

Carl tried to tell him who everyone was but Pete soon lost track, and in the smoky room it was hard to tell people apart anyway. Carl pulled him down onto the battered sofa and grabbed him a whiskey. Pete imagined he’d forgotten he hated it already; still, it was better than drowning in his own lack of self confidence around these new people. Carl lit up and passed it to him, lighting one for himself and putting his arm round his shoulders. This made Pete feel slightly more relaxed at least.

They were talking about something Pete wasn’t really following, when one of Carl’s mates leant down and asked him something Pete didn’t hear and Carl nodded. He tried to remain nonchalant as they started doing lines of coke off the tables.

It wasn’t that it really bothered him, he just wasn’t entirely sure how to react. He was curious, of course he was. Before had been a different situation and he hadn’t been able to tell where the drink and sex had stopped and the coke had started, he guessed in this situation he’d be able to feel it more. However the fact that Carl hadn’t offered it to him made him think he didn’t want him to ask, so Pete kept quiet for now.

Carl just resumed his conversation with his friends as normal that Pete was happy not really being a part of as he couldn’t really hear what they were saying anyway. He tried to act like he was completely comfortable in this environment but it never really worked, he just drank faster and hoped he might shrink into the chair a little bit.

He could feel himself getting tipsy, barely noticing as Carl did another line, and then his friends were all standing up.

Carl leant over to him. “Right love, we’re on next, so I’ll see you after, yeah?”

Pete nodded, noted a brief kiss from Carl on the side of his head before the room emptied and he tried to remember how to get back out. He stumbled slightly down the corridor and wondered just how much he’d had to drink...Carl had been refilling his glass and he’d not been paying attention.

He walked back out into the main room and tried to find something to sit on or lean against as standing up of his own accord wasn’t really working out so well. His sister seemed to appear from nowhere.

“Where did you go?! I thought I’d lost you!” He was quite glad she seemed pretty drunk too, he guessed that meant he wasn’t going to get a drinking lecture off her.

Pete didn’t bother to tell her that it was her that had wandered off not him.

“Went backstage with Carl...” Oh god he was slurring slightly. He needed some water. Luckily she didn’t seem to notice.

She just laughed. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “I can’t see the band from here...where shall we stand?”

“Are you not bored of staring at him yet?”

“I don’t stare!”

She laughed at him again and dragged him over to the side and up some steps up to one of the bars. Pete thought he did quite well making it without falling on his face. Amy brought him another drink and pointed behind him.

“See, you can see perfectly from here.”

He turned, taking the drink from her against his better judgement and saw what she meant. They had a perfect view of the stage from up here.

“Why is no one else up here?”

“Cos they’re shite and nobody cares?”

“Shut up!”

“You’ve not even heard them yet...”

“Yeah but...” Pete trailed off, sipping cautiously at his drink. She’d given him vodka and coke, something he actually liked this time. “See, people are standing up by the front...”

“They’re all drunk they’ll get excited about anyone in a leather jacket throwing themselves around with a guitar...”

Pete shrugged and was thankful when the lights went down again and he watched the band walk on stage. Amy leant over to shout in his ear over as the mic squealing filled the room.

“Have you heard him play before?”

Pete shook his head.

“He’s actually okay. Don’t tell him I said that.” Pete smiled slightly and nodded, watching Carl. He still couldn’t believe he was fucking such a beautiful boy, the fact that he was standing on a stage behind a guitar looking all the part of a rock star was doing little to make it seem real. The band started to play and Pete thought they were okay, but, true to his sister’s predictions, he did spent the whole time staring at him.

Yes, he could play pretty well. But what amazed Peter was his shyness on stage, his head was down, his fringe hiding his eyes. He did have a stage presence though, and he was gorgeous, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the girls standing by his part of the stage. He didn’t know whether to feel jealous or elated that that boy was his that they were looking at. Supposedly anyway.

He frowned as he checked himself up on his thoughts. Supposedly? Did he still not trust him? It wasn’t as if he’d openly introduced him as his boyfriend, but then how did he know how many people knew he even liked guys? He’d probably just had too much to drink. He drank more to rectify this.

He looked up and watched him some more, and got a strange feeling that no, he wasn’t jealous of the looks and applause...he wanted some of it for himself. And not just on his own, no, he wanted to be right up there beside him on that stage.

He frowned at his thoughts again, he couldn’t even play a fucking guitar, what was he thinking?

They finished to a smattering of applause and Pete watched him walk off stage, wondering whether or not to go and meet him or whether he should stay there and wait.

“I’d wait...unless you really want to disappear into a cloud of coke...”

Pete just raised his eyebrows.

“Oh by the way, if I ever hear of you doing any of that shit I will tell mum and dad so fast they’ll barricade your room and never let you out here to see your precious manslag ever again...”

Pete just nodded, he knew she would. There was no point in trying to argue with her. It wasn’t like he had tonight or really had any intentions to again, but some part of him seemed to think it was somewhat inevitable.

“I won’t.”

“Just like you wouldn’t shag my best friend? I’ll be keeping my ears open, Peter. Oh, here he comes now. I’ll leave you two love birds to it...” She walked over to join her friends and Peter turned.

Carl was with his mates, he hadn’t seen him yet and though he knew it was ridiculous he didn’t want to interrupt. He looked away awkwardly, waiting for Carl to see him. He was still quite drunk, though sipping on his drink slowly with his sister had sobered him up slightly.

In what felt like forever but was probably only a couple of minutes Carl noticed him and called over to him through the disbanding crowd.

“Peter!”

Pete looked up and smiled, walking over to him, noticing he seemed to be slightly better at walking now.

“Hey,” he smiled as Carl put his arm round him again. That was better. Jealousy evaporated with his arm there. Carl pulled him a little over to one side.

“Listen, Pete, there’s a party at Johnny’s, do you wanna go?”

Pete shrugged, thinking he was actually quite tired, and Carl’s bed sounded much better, but he didn’t want to spoil the evening for him.

“Yeah whatever...”

“Cool, okay, come on...”

He followed in a slightly drunken daze as Carl pulled him over to the taxi rank.

“Actually no.” Carl came to a spontaneous halt. Pete stumbled slightly.

“What?”

“No, no...I wanna go home.”

“Okay...let’s go home then...” Pete was starting to realise Carl was a lot more wasted than he initially realised.

“Peter...” he leant up to whisper in his ear.

“What?”

“I want to fuck you...”

Pete cringed at just quite how loudly he’d said that, he imagined he’d meant it to come out as a whisper, but drunk people really didn’t whisper.

“Okay...so let’s go home.”

“Home. Yes. Which way?”

Pete blinked. Oh god. No, it was okay, he knew the halls, they could get in a taxi. He pulled Carl into a taxi, and smiled slightly as Carl lay his head on his chest and closed his eyes. He started playing with his hair absentmindedly as they drove away, his other arm round his waist, feeling strangely protective of him. He knew he was the innocent stupid one that was going out with a “bad for him” boyfriend who apparently had a slight drug habit. Whatever.

He looked down and saw him looking up at him, his blue eyes looked huge, and however pretty that made him look it convinced Peter all the more he was properly wasted. Home was probably the best idea.

They got in and Carl pushed him back on the bed roughly.

“God...Peter...too long...”

Peter smiled slightly. “It’s been like a week...”

“Tonight, I mean, next time, sex first, gig later, then sex again...”

Peter laughed at him. “You’re wasted.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not coked up to the eyeballs.”

“Neither am I!”

Peter just raised his eyebrows at him. “Course not...”

“Just shut up and let me fuck you please?”

“If you think you’re in any state to...” Pete knew he should probably stop winding him up. He didn’t even know why he was...it seemed to come all too naturally. He almost liked bickering with him.

“You’re getting far too cheeky Peter...”

Carl ripped Pete’s polo neck over his head and undid his flies, letting Pete kick off his jeans as he threw his own clothes on a pile on the floor.

“God Peter I’ve wanted to fuck you all night...” he growled in his ear, dragging his teeth down his neck as he crawled on top of him, wrapping his hand round his cock.

“Fuck Carl...” Peter moaned, grabbing his hair and pulling him down into a kiss. Carl kissed him roughly before sliding down him, wrapping his mouth round his cock and sucking him off, hard. Pete’s eyes rolled back into his head, he felt Carl’s hands in between his legs. He knew he was rushing it, through desperation or selfishness Pete wasn’t quite sure.

He moaned as he felt Carl’s fingers push inside him and grabbed a handful of his hair. If he was going to be selfish, Pete could too...he pushed Carl’s head down further on his cock and moaned as Carl obliged him.

“Oh fuck yes...” he could feel Carl stretching him, occasionally brushing over his prostate and making his hips jerk up.

Pete groaned in objection as Carl pulled back, grabbing more lube from under his bed, spreading it over his cock and smirking at Peter, like he knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted and he knew Peter was completely at his mercy. Pete would have slapped him if he didn’t look so hot doing it.

“Put your legs up...”

Pete complied, thinking it was probably in his best interests not to start an argument about Carl being such a cocky bastard in the middle of sex. He cried out as Carl pushed all the way into him, not bothering to give Peter a minute to breathe before he started to move.

“Fuck Carl...” in this position he couldn’t even grab hold of him, kiss him, anything...just had to lie there and take it, watching Carl’s skin start to glow, start to bite his lip, and his eyes flicker shut. Peter did likewise, feeling the bliss of Carl inside him...

“Oh god...” Carl moaned, “I swear Peter no one else ever feels as good as you...”

Peter’s eyes flew open and he stared up at him. Carl didn’t notice as his eyes were closed, and Peter could tell he was close by his strokes and the grip he had on his shoulders.

“Yes, Peter...yes....yes...ohh...”

Peter just lay frozen as Carl came inside him, he went to grab his cock but Pete’s hand grabbed his wrist and stopped him. Carl opened his eyes, confused.

“What?”

“Get off me.”

“What?” Carl looked genuinely confused. Pete reasoned that he probably hadn’t realised he was saying anything at all, let alone what he was saying.

“Get off.” He was never the less feeling like he was about to throw up. He pushed him off of him, much to Carl’s protesting and grabbed Carl’s dressing gown, running across to the toilet and feeling everything he’d drank that night come back up his throat. He heard Carl pulling on his clothes, he could feel tears in his eyes, burning down his cheeks.

Carl came into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, putting his hand on his back.

“Peter...what...”

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Peter jerked his head up, thinking this argument would probably be a little easier to have if he wasn’t mid throwing up.

“You...”

“What? What did I do?” Carl did sound genuinely distressed, for all his apparent failings. He was still quite drunk. Peter heaved into the toilet again and thought he’d never felt more sober.

“Forget it. Forget this Carl. I wanna go home.”

“Peter it’s the middle of the night.”

“I’ll call a taxi.”

“Pete you’re hours away from home. Will you please tell me what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“With me? There’s nothing fucking wrong with me. Do you seriously not remember what you said?”

“No, surprisingly, very drunk and mid sex, I don’t...”

“You said...” Pete couldn’t bear to repeat it to him. “You said no one ever felt as good as me...”

“So?”

“No...no...you said... “no one ever feels as good as you Peter...””

Carl faltered slightly. “Peter...I’d never...”

“You would. You have before.” Peter practically spit out his words.

“Not to you.”

“Ha.”

“Peter I swear...I’m just...I’m just fucked Peter I didn’t mean it like that...”

“Then why would you say it?”

“Because I’m drunk and I got my words mixed up? Peter, seriously, I swear, I would never, ever, do that to you.”

Peter looked up at him from where he was now leaning on the toilet seat. Carl was even paler than usual now, or maybe just in the harsh fluorescent light of the communal bathroom, looking down on him with those eyes, begging him to believe him. He was knelt next to him but somehow he was still taller.

When Pete didn’t reply Carl put his hand on his back cautiously. Pete didn’t have the strength to tell him to fuck off anymore and just sighed.

“Come on Peter, you’re freezing...let’s go back to my room.”

Peter supposed it was cold. He got up and let Carl put his arm round him and lead him back across the corridor.

Peter stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do, eventually he sat on the end of his bed.

Carl stood opposite him, apparently unsure of what to do with himself either.

“Can I...?” Carl went to sit next to him.

“Whatever...”

“Peter...” Carl sighed, sitting next to him. Peter noted he’d also significantly sobered up. “I’m sorry...I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I swear I haven’t even looked at anyone the week you’ve been gone.”

Pete still didn’t say anything. Deep down he knew he didn’t believe him. Not at all. The thought made him feel sick all over again.

Carl put his arm round him and Peter didn’t stop him, so Carl pulled him into a tight hug.

“I don’t...” Pete started.

“What?”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Peter...It’s late, come on, we’re both drunk, we’re both shattered, let’s get some sleep and talk about this in the morning.”

Pete sighed. He was tired. So tired. Carl lifted up the covers and all but pushed him underneath them, crawling in next to him. They lay facing each other, Pete looking up at him with big imploring eyes, begging him not to have hurt him. Carl really forgot how innocent he was sometimes.

“Come on Peter, come here...” he put his arm up and Pete reluctantly shuffled over and let Carl cuddle him. It felt like a relief, regardless of whatever had happened. Pete closed his eyes and felt the world start to spin around him.

“Peter...” he could vaguely hear Carl’s voice in his ear before he fell asleep. “Peter, I love you...I swear I’d never do anything to hurt you...”

                                                                                    *

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Pete woke up and groaned, thinking he was really making too much of a habit of waking up in Carl’s bed with a ridiculous hangover. He kept his eyes screwed shut, unable to deal with sunlight at this point in time. Carl was wrapped around him, holding him so tight, like he was scared he might just slip away if he let him go for even a moment. Pete tried not to think of what he’d said last night, but already his mind was replaying the whole thing. He was already trying to convince himself it had been a simple mistake, a slip of the tongue. Carl had been utterly wasted, after all.

He didn’t know what to think, or how he felt, or really anything at all. Thinking was too painful with the headache he had at the moment. Carl nuzzled his head into his shoulder, yawning slightly, and the rush of affection Pete felt terrified him. He pushed him back, finally opening his eyes and looking at the disgruntled boy next to him. Carl groaned and opened his eyes, he blinked a few times, apparently confused. Pete practically saw the moment when Carl also remembered what happened last night, saw him frown and screw his eyes up again, sighing.

“Peter…”

Pete just sighed and kissed him, it was ridiculous, embarrassing, and pretty damn pathetic but Pete just couldn’t bear to see him that troubled, to hear that tone in his voice and know he was the cause of it. Carl sighed in relief. Pete wanted to tell him not to be so hasty, that he hadn’t forgiven him just yet, but he couldn’t bring himself to.

“I’m sorry,” Carl mumbled against his lips.

“Forget it.” Pete tried so hard to make it sound casual, but it still came out with a hint of bitterness.

“I really haven’t, I swear, haven’t looked at anyone twice…”

“Promise me?”

“Well…” Carl paused and Pete pushed him back, suddenly alarmed.

“No, no, not like that. Hang on, Pete, listen…” he grabbed him and pulled him back on the bed as Pete tried to get up.

“Really, listen,” Carl looked at him imploringly and Pete rolled his eyes and lay back down.

“You can ask your sister, I promise, look, I was just going to say, if you really want to hear the truth, because it’ll probably convince you…I went out with your sister, and there was this girl…”

Pete felt his chest tighten.

“She was pretty, red hair, skinny, she seemed interesting, older, I liked her, we got on, I felt like I fancied her…she asked if I wanted to go outside for a cigarette, I said yeah, automatically, I followed her out there…”

Pete could barely breathe. He didn’t know why, they’d been seeing each other for what, three weeks? Why did it suddenly feel like they were in a twenty year long relationship and Carl was about to confess a five year long affair?

“But she tried to kiss me, and I freaked out, I didn’t want to kiss her, I just wanted you, all I could think about was you. So I jumped into a taxi and I left. That was the night I called you.”

Peter frowned at him, he knew he was telling the truth, that wasn’t exactly the kind of story you made up to appease someone. Pete wasn’t sure if it really made him feel any better or not.

“I swear, Peter, I’m telling the truth.”

“I know you are,” Pete sighed.

“Well, then why are you still looking worried?”

Pete just shook his head.

“I just…I dunno.”

Pete honestly didn’t know where all these ridiculous feelings were coming from, he was feeling levels of jealously and paranoia he knew should only come with long term relationships.

“I just don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Carl’s mouth dropped open.

“What do you mean?”

“I just…you make me feel awful.”

“What?! I haven’t done anything!” Carl was looking completely confused.

“No, I didn’t meant like that,” Pete groaned and put his head in the pillow. “I’m just really bad at this whole thing.”

“What? Having a relationship?” Carl laughed at him, he didn’t seem all that convinced by Peter’s attempts to knock him back.

“No, well. Yes. But, I meant…”

“Communicating?” There was a definite hint of amusement in Carl’s voice now, Pete got the feeling he might not be taking him entirely seriously.

“Yes. But…I just….” he trailed off and sighed, burying his head in the pillow.

“I think you just need to relax.”

“I…what?” Pete spluttered as Carl pushed him onto his front and straddled his arse.

“You’re hungover and exhausted, now is not the time to be having relationship talks. You’re stressing yourself out, you need to calm down.”

“But…”

“I think I’ve worked out what you’re problem is, you think too much. You think there’s a problem here, there isn’t. You’re just freaking out cos this is the first proper relationship you’ve been in, it’s okay.”

“But…I…” Pete wasn’t sure if he was reading this correctly but he was pretty sure he’d just tried to break up with Carl and Carl had just told him no. How did that even work?

“Shhh baby, I’m giving you a massage. Just lie there and try and stop thinking.”

“But, Carl, I…”

“Shh…”

Pete felt him reach up to the cd player above their heads and turn it on,

Pete was listening to the first few chords when he felt cold liquid on his back and shrieked.

“Is that lube?”

Carl laughed.

“No, idiot, massage oil…relax.”

Pete tried to think of why Carl would even have that when he started rubbing it over his back, massaging it into his shoulders…Pete felt himself melting into the bed.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do this?”

Carl laughed. “Massage school? I dunno, one of my ex’s just used to like them.”

Pete tensed.

“Stop itttt…” Carl tapped him on the head. “I have had other relationships, I have slept with a lot of people, get over it. It doesn’t mean I like you any less…stop being so jealousss…”

He moved his hands down his back and Pete groaned, unable to stop himself, Carl was apparently universally good with his hands. He eventually gave himself over to Carl’s massage, listening to the cd he’d put on.

_California dreaming…on such a winters day.._

It sounded weird, 60s, like some kind of lullaby, not at all the kind of thing Pete imagined him listening to at all.

“What’s this?”

“What’s this?! Honestly, Peter…it’s the Mamas and the Papas…”

“Oh…” Pete had a vague notion his mother might have played them to him once. It was nice, he supposed, especially when Carl started singing along under his breath.

“California dreaming…on such a winter’s day…”

Pete melted and gave in, relaxing against the bed, listening to Carl’s lovely voice, felt his lovely hands on his back, moving slowly further down.

“Thereee you go my love…that’s better.”

He sighed as he felt himself relaxing, enjoying his boy’s beautiful hands, moving down over his arse…Carl shifted off to the side, moved his hands teasingly close then skirted down to his legs to work on them instead.

Pete huffed at him slightly and Carl laughed.

“You must be feeling pretty wound up after last night…christ Peter, even if I was pissed I’d still let someone get me off…”

Pete just sighed, deciding he didn’t want to think about last night anymore.

Carl kissed him on the back of the head and moved his hands down to his feet.

“Are you ticklish?”

“No,” Pete said, finally admitting to himself that he was still talking to him. He groaned as Carl started touching his feet.

“Has no one ever given you a foot massage before?”

“No, why would they have?” Pete was still snapping at him, still refusing to admit this argument was forgotten and move on.

Carl just laughed and carried on rubbing his feet. Eventually he finished and sat back on his heels.

“I know you’re still busy being angry at me, even though I’ve done nothing wrong, and it’s actually just you being a head case…but you’re covered in oil, and it’s seems like a bit of a waste to not fuck you absolutely silly right now…especially when your arse is looking so fucking tempting…”

Pete gritted his teeth, torn between telling Carl to fuck off and letting him do whatever he wanted. He was still ridiculously wound up, regardless of his hungover state.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

_Jesus_ …how could he turn him on so much when he was still meant to be mad at him? He was sure it was his tone...not that Pete liked being ordered around at all. Pete was fast forgetting why he was mad at him, though a thought was starting to float to the surface that maybe he wasn’t really mad at Carl at all and was really just mad at himself for being an irrational idiot. Maybe.

He got on his knees.

“Mmm that’s better,” Carl purred behind him.

Pete groaned. “Stop using that voice…”

Carl laughed.

“What voice?”

“Ugh…” Pete just shook his head, his head dropped and his eyes closed, still not quite ready to admit he was giving himself over to him this easily.

He felt Carl’s hands on his arse and shuddered.

“I fucking love your arse…” Carl told him, seconds before swiping out at it with his tongue.

“Fuck!” Pete gasped, twisting his fingers in the sheets. He didn’t realise there were sensations that Carl still had yet to introduce him to. Carl laughed.

“You like that baby?” He started flicking his tongue out in earnest, which Pete quickly learnt made the most obscene sound. He wanted to tell him to stop calling him that, that he wasn’t his girlfriend, but he was far too busy whimpering, feeling his legs turning to jelly. He wasn’t sure how much longer his knees were going to support him.

“God…”

Carl pushed his tongue inside him and Pete shrieked, blushing even more than he was already. Just as Pete thought his legs were going to give way Carl pulled back and Pete sighed at the familiar feeling of Carl’s fingers pushing inside him.

“Carrrrlll…” he moaned, pushing his arse back against his hand.

“Hmm?”

“Love you.”

Carl laughed, pushing his fingers just where he knew he wanted them.

“Mmm…”

Pete was so relaxed and turned on it took hardly any time at all before his body started wanting something more.

“Carl…fuck me please…” he wasn’t moaning, begging or nearly yelling at him to do it like he usually was, it was just a soft request this time, and Carl instantly complied.

“Oh…” Pete gasped, he forgot quite how deep Carl could go like this, forgot how fucking _filled_ it made him feel.

“Ah Peter…feel so fucking good…”

Carl was moving slowly for a change, Pete thought he was probably just remembering how he’d said he liked it before, was thoroughly spoiling him. Carl’s hands were firm on his hips, slow, hard deliberate strokes hitting exactly where Pete needed them.

“Peter…I want you to understand something…”

Pete whimpered, wondering exactly how much he was supposed to be understanding when Carl was doing this to him.

“I love you, and I don’t say that lightly, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and I’m not having you ruining it…” he was gasping every few words, shuddering occasionally. “Okay?”

Pete couldn’t even remember now what the problem had been in the first place. He couldn’t really imagine anything bad enough that he wouldn’t want this gorgeous, amazing boy to be fucking him.

“Okay.”

Carl laughed.

“Oh you’d agree to anything like this.” He pushed in particularly hard and Pete whimpered, his eyes watering slightly at the pressure.

“Carl….I…” Pete suddenly felt the need for something a little different, squirmed underneath him.

“Hmm?”

“Carl will you fuck me really hard, please…like you did last night?” He didn’t know how he was daring to be so bold, usually he’d only scream and demand things of him when he was driving him out of his head with pleasure and was so desperate for it he thought he might explode…

Carl laughed. “Dirty talk works best if you don’t use manners…but yes darling, of course…hold onto the bed frame…”

Peter could feel anticipation coursing through him already as he tightened his fingers round the cold metal. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt like he needed this so desperately…

He screamed and screamed as Carl complied with his request, fucking him so hard he thought the bed might break, Carl’s fingers leaving marks on his hips and his shoulders. He could hear Carl panting behind him, swearing and gasping. He couldn’t explain what had come over him, it wasn’t easy to take, but a part of him was so desperate for it, _needed it_ like this.

“Fuck…fuck…Carl please…”

He felt Carl’s hand round his cock, the boy was feeling particularly obliging today.

“FUCK!” Pete screamed as he came all over the sheet, feeling Carl following him over the edge, crying out and biting down on his shoulder.

Pete collapsed on the bed, all care for the mess on the sheets gone as he tried to get his breath back. He heard a thud as Carl collapsed next to him, but Pete kept his head firmly buried in the pillow, not ready to look at him just yet.

“Fuck…that was amazing,” Carl sighed next to him, “but I really need to stop covering you in so many bruises…”

He ran his fingers lightly over the marks on Pete’s hips and Pete shuddered, aftershocks coursing through him.

“Don’t.”

“Really? Are you still pissed?”

“I’m not pissed, I’m terrified,” Pete finally admitted.

Carl sighed again. “You could at least have the decency to look at me, Peter.”

Pete sighed and rolled on his side, reluctantly looking up at Carl and raising his eyebrows.

“Why are you terrified, Peter?”

Carl’s hands were straying again, playing with Pete’s long hair, running his fingers down his cheek, over his lips.

“The way I feel about you terrifies me, the way my body responds to you terrifies me…”

Carl just gave him an annoyingly knowing smile.

“A poet afraid to fall in love…but what on earth will you write about?”

“Clouds,” Pete said at random, he had no idea where that thought had come from.

Carl burst out laughing. “What?”

Pete just shrugged, reluctantly smiling.

“I’m not going to promise that I won’t hurt you, Peter…it’s an impossible promise, it’s just a chance you have to take. I’d never want to hurt you, though…” Carl smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips.

The cd was still playing in the background, Pete had tuned out from it completely but now he started to listen again.

_Stars shining bright above you;_

_Night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'._

_Birds singing in the sycamore tree._

_Dream a little dream of me._

This song he thought he knew.

“You’ve just got to trust me, Peter, can you do that?”

God, had he really nearly fucked this entire thing up all by himself? Had he really nearly ruined their whole relationship in a fit of jealously? Reality seemed to hit him on the head like an anvil. This boy was amazing, talented, beautiful and funny and apparently liked him enough to put up with his insane behaviour…what was he thinking trying to sabotage this?

“I’m such an idiot…I’m sorry. Of course I trust you.” Pete closed his eyes and sighed.

Carl leant forward and kissed him.

“It’s fine.”

Carl wrapped his arms round him and Peter turned to hug him properly.

“Ah…I’m sticky…” Pete suddenly realised he was covered in now seemingly quite disgusting combination of oil, lube, sweat and cum.

“Mmm, so am I…” Carl laughed. “Shower and I’ll take you out for breakfast?”

“Sold.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
